Ghosts Within
by Jordan Trevor
Summary: "Jean-Luc Picard dreamed. Dreams that made little or no sense. Dreams that turned and twisted, shifted back and forth between light and dark." And then those dreams became ghosts.
1. Chapter 1

**Ghosts Within**

**Disclaimer:** The crew of the _Enterprise_ doesn't belong to me.

Jean-Luc Picard dreamed. Dreams that made little or no sense. Dreams that turned and twisted, shifted back and forth between light and dark. Faces from the past and half remembered voices. People he had not seen or thought about in years. And those he'd seen just that morning. And others whom he cared for and thought of often.

Jean-Luc Picard felt trapped in his dreams. As if he were caught between the past and the present, and yet hovering precipitously on the brink of a shadowed future. There were no patterns, no reasons, just images, and bits and pieces of memories, fleeting and ephemeral. Yet something... something was pulling at him in his troubled sleep, something, or someone with a message he could not grasp. He reached out his hand, searching, longing to touch that which he could not. And there, lightening his darkness, was Clarissa Trent, her slender fingers extended toward him. He reached further and took her hand in his. She was saying something, pleading with him, asking him to understand. But he could not. And then, she was gone.

Jean-Luc Picard woke with a gasp, and in that instant, he did not know where he was. Slowly, the shadows surrounding him coalesced into the familiar lines and form of the _Enterprise's_ sickbay. The face staring down at him did not belong to Clarissa Trent, nor did the hand he held. Beverly Crusher was there, standing on one side of him, and Deanna Troi on the other.

Crusher gently laid his hand down on the bed. "Jean-Luc?" She leaned over him.

"Not so loud, Doctor." Picard winced. "I'm awake." He was surprised at the effort it took just to speak, and yet he continued. "What... what happened?" He could not remember anything.

"There was a malfunction, Captain," Troi explained.

"Malfunction?" Picard tried to push himself up on his elbows, but Crusher stopped him.

"It's been corrected. The turbolift is fine. You are not." Her hands were firm on his shoulders, her eyes even firmer. "Just lie still."

Picard reluctantly relaxed. He felt helpless and awkward with the two of them hovering over him. "How long have I been unconscious?" He swallowed to relieve the dryness in his throat.

"A little over two hours," Crusher answered.

He moved his hand to his forehead.

"Uh-uh," the doctor chided, pushing his hand away. "Don't touch. You split it open pretty badly. Give it time to heal."

Picard sighed, irritated at being treated like a child. "It doesn't hurt."

"Don't worry," Crusher replied. "It will." She gave him that look that he'd seen a thousand times before. That look that dared him to challenge her medical judgment.

He smiled weakly. Now was not the time for disagreement. "I believe you." He turned his head carefully on the pillow and looked up at Deanna Troi. There was deep concern written across her face. "I'll be all right, Counselor." He indicated Crusher with a slight shift of his eyes. "That is if I do everything she tells me to do."

Troi's features softened, and for a moment she actually reminded him of Clarissa Trent: the dark hair and soft, dark eyes.

"I know you will be, Captain." He was beginning to read her feelings as well as she read his.

Crusher lifted Picard's head slightly and held a glass of water to his lips. He took a few sips before she settled him back on the pillow.

"Now," his voice a little stronger, "I want to know more about this malfunction. In detail." A horrifying thought hit him. "Was anyone else injured?"

"No, Jean-Luc," Crusher answered, her voice reassuring. "No one else was injured."

"Thank god," he breathed. _The ship..._ "Did it affect any of the other turbolifts?"

"No, it was just the one."

"And Geordi says it seems to be working fine now," Troi added. "I think you should let him fill you in on all the details."

"Yes," Picard agreed, "I should." He tried to sit up again. This time both Crusher and Troi held him.

"Not _now_," Crusher's voice was hard. "I want you to get a little more sleep."

_Sleep. Dreams._

"No," he protested, louder than he meant to.

Troi reached out and touched his arm, and he realized she had sensed his fear.

"Captain?" she questioned.

Picard took a deep breath. "I feel fine." But Crusher had already pressed a hypospray to his neck. "I don't want to sleep," he mumbled drowsily as the drug immediately began to take effect.

"Doctor's orders," Crusher said, pulling a blanket closer around him.

Picard's eyes closed, and the dreams returned.

~vVv~

Twelve hours later, after a restless, dream-filled night, Beverly Crusher grudgingly released the captain from Sickbay. "I want you to know this is against my better judgment." She stood just outside the door to her office, her arms folded across her chest, a look of determined exasperation on her face.

"So noted," Picard replied, turning to go.

"If you get to feeling any worse, let me know." Her tone was one of acquiescence.

He looked back over his shoulder. "You shall be the first." He noticed the lines above her eyebrows. "And stop worrying, Beverly. It only hurts when I laugh, and I shall endeavor not to."

~vVv~

Geordi LaForge explained at great length why the turbolift had malfunctioned, sending the captain head over heels and landing him in Sickbay. Picard was aware of his chief engineer's acute sense of guilt over the mishap, and he assured the lieutenant commander that there was, by no means, any fault. Even on the _Enterprise_, things sometimes went awry. And at the end of the briefing, Picard was satisfied that the problem had been taken care of.

The captain stepped out of his ready room onto the bridge, and Will Riker stood, vacating the center command chair.

"Good morning, Captain, it's nice to have you back." The first officer smiled, and Picard felt, once again, that he was a participant in the age old custom of the 'changing of the guard.' _A willing participant,_ he reminded himself, with a smile of his own.

He crossed over and settled himself in the chair. He glanced at his first officer.

Commander William Riker was tall and imposing, even when sitting, his bearded face lean and handsome. His easy smile and playful blue eyes gave him the look of a mischievous little boy. But he was a damn fine officer.

"It's good to be back, Number One," Picard responded. And indeed, it did feel good to be back in command. There really was no substitute. "Have I missed anything of great importance during my absence?"

"Not a thing, sir. Still on course for Temple Four."

"Ah, yes. Temple Four." A slight grimace momentarily marred the captain's sharp, but pleasant, features. They were in the process of delivering supplies to the planet, and Picard had always disliked using the _Enterprise_ as a mere ferry boat. But, his was not to reason why, his was to simply do or... He stopped his rambling thoughts. "What is our estimated time of arrival, Mister Data?" he inquired.

"Maintaining our present course and speed, we should arrive at Temple Four in three-point-two-six days," Data answered crisply.

"Well, that gives us a few days to relax." Picard absent-mindedly reached up and rubbed his forehead.

"And recuperate," Riker interjected with a somewhat amused smile.

The captain pulled his hand away. "I'm just fine, thank you, Number One."

In fact, the cut had already healed nicely, leaving just a faint trace of a scar. And despite Beverly Crusher's warnings, there had been very little pain as a result of his accident. The dreams had disturbed him more, a great deal more than he had admitted to himself.

Picard spent the next five hours on the bridge, watching space unfold before him, listening to the familiar banter of his bridge crew, secretly enjoying every minute. At the end of the watch, he was reluctant to leave, but the look Will Riker gave him, the one that seemed to say 'I'll tell Beverly if you don't,' convinced him, and so the captain retired to his quarters.

~vVv~

Although his time spent on the bridge had helped to push the darker thoughts and concerns from his mind, the idea of sleep still did not appeal to Picard. He was just opening one of his antique, leather-bound books when his door chime sounded.

"Come."

The door slid open and Deanna Troi hesitated at the threshold.

"Counselor, please come in." Picard stood, laying the book on a table. He knew why she was here. He'd half-way been expecting her.

"I'm not interrupting?" She came further into the room.

"Not at all," he assured her. "Have a seat."

Troi settled herself on the sofa, and Picard resumed his chair. He studied her for a moment. She was absolutely beautiful. _Breathtakingly so,_ he thought. And kind, gentle, extremely talented. He thoroughly understood what his first officer saw in her, for he saw it, too.

"So, what can I do for you?" he asked.

Troi smiled. "You stole my question, Captain."

"Your question?"

"I sensed yesterday, in Sickbay, that there was something troubling you." She leaned towards him.

Picard shifted his weight in the chair. "Well, being tossed around in a turbolift can be somewhat troubling."

"I know, but I felt that there was something more," she continued gently, "and I thought perhaps..."

Picard exhaled heavily. There was no use trying to evade her. He wouldn't want to, even if he could. Over the past three years, a trust and rapport had grown between them, and he did not want that destroyed. "Deanna," he began, "you know that I value your advice and your friendship. I appreciate the fact that I have been able to come to you when faced with problems and decisions." He hesitated, yet his eyes never left hers. "You know me too well not to know when something is bothering me. And you're right. There is much on my mind right now. But I think that this is something I must work through on my own."

"I understand, Captain." She rose. "If you decide that you want to talk..." She walked to the door, and it slid open.

Picard stood. "Thank you," he said, and the door closed behind her.

He crossed over to the viewport and leaned against it, the transparent aluminum cool against his body. Unbeknownst to Deanna Troi, she had summoned them back. And once again, Picard was alone with his shadows.

~vVv~


	2. Chapter 2

Twenty years ago, Temple IV was little more than an uninhabited ball of rock, situated in a distant corner of the Tri Omicron system, not far from the Romulan Neutral Zone. It had gone virtually unnoticed by the Romulans because it had nothing of value to offer. Temple IV was just a barren, grey, dust bowl of a planet: air barely breathable, no vegetation, continuous cloud coverage, but very little rain. It was just the sort of place on which the Federation loved to establish little out of the way scientific research stations, and then send their best ship in the fleet to deliver supplies. Granted, highly classified supplies, but a milk run all the same.

Temple IV was, in reality, a chemical power research lab, but for all intents and purposes, it presented itself as a simple Federation mining colony. A portion of the small population were miners, the other portion Federation and Starfleet scientists. Despite the occasional starship that came and went, the Romulans still seemed uninterested in this particular piece of rock.

As the _Enterprise_ established orbit around Temple IV, Jean-Luc Picard stood alone in the observation lounge, staring out the viewports. At that moment, he was not particularly interested in Temple IV himself. He had not slept much in the past three days, and had spent most of his off duty time re-reading one of his favorite William Shakespeare plays, _A Winter's Tale._ When he had slept, the dreams were still there. Not as dark as before, not as foreboding, but none-the-less confusing. Even more so. They seemed to merge with the characters from _A Winter's Tale_, and the lifeless statue of Hermione would fade into the image of Clarissa's face.

Clarissa Trent.

There had been a time when Jean-Luc Picard had planned a life with Clarissa Trent. Fifteen years ago, he'd been in love with two things: the _Stargazer_ and Clarissa. She was a Federation physicist on board, and Picard had fallen unashamedly, irrevocably in love. They'd even talked of marriage. But then Clarissa had abruptly requested a transfer to a research project on Tau Kappa. She'd given him no warning, no explanation. In fact, they'd spoken very little in the remaining three weeks they were together. A transport ship arrived from Starbase 16, and Picard never saw Clarissa Trent again. Except in his dreams.

The former captain of the _Stargazer_, the present captain of the _Enterprise_, was not a man who dwelled in the past. He was an explorer, and tomorrow and the far reaches of space demanded his attention. And so, he went on with his life. In the years that followed, he thought about Clarissa, and even kept up with her career for a while. But the _Stargazer_ literally went where no one had gone before, and Picard was soon forced to leave Clarissa Trent behind.

Jean-Luc Picard had not thought this much about Clarissa in years. Standing there, in the observation lounge, looking out at the stars, he told himself it was just a phase, that in a few days the dreams would cease, and his images of Clarissa would settle back into the recesses of him memory. At least, he hoped they would. For that is where they belonged.

Picard didn't hear the door to the lounge slide open, but he heard it close. He turned. "Ah, Number One."

"Captain." Riker walked over and joined him at the viewport, the expansive vista drawing his gaze. "Lost in thought?"

"Yes," Picard admitted. "I suppose I'd make an easy target."

"Not at all, sir," Riker assured him.

The captain smiled and continued to stare at the stars.

"We've established contact with the base command office," Riker continued.

Picard looked over at him. "Schaeffer Featherstone?"

"You know him?"

"Oh, yes." The captain moved to the head of the conference table. "Schaeffer and I go way back. Further back than I care to remember." He reached over and pushed a button on the table, and the viewscreen on the wall behind him flickered into life. He turned and found himself face to face with a dark haired man in a Starfleet command uniform.

"Jean-Luc," the man addressed him, "it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, Schaeffer. It's been a long time. I'd heard rumors that you were a base commander out this way."

"It keeps the family in one place," Featherstone laughed, but it was almost a forced laughter.

"How are Margaret and the boys?" Picard inquired.

"Fine, just fine," he answered quickly. "And you?"

"Can't complain. You know me; I'm at home as long as I'm going somewhere."

Featherstone didn't respond to his answer, and Picard was surprised. It was part of an old joke between the two of them. Surely he hadn't forgotten.

"We have those supplies for you," Picard continued. "All ready to beam down if you're ready to receive them."

Featherstone hesitated with his reply.

"Schaeffer?"

"Yes, yes. We're ready for them, Jean-Luc. Would you... would you be able to beam down to my office. I'd very much like to see you in person after all these years."

It was a perfectly normal request. One that Picard would probably have proposed himself, but... there was something in Schaeffer Featherstone's voice and manner that disturbed him. It was an abrupt quality that he'd never observed in him before.

Picard glanced over at Riker. There was something Featherstone wasn't telling them. Riker nodded an affirmative to the captain's unspoken question.

"Of course, I'll beam down, Schaeffer," Picard replied, "along with my first officer, Commander Riker."

"Very good, Jean-Luc. Let's say in an hour, after I get those supplies taken care of."

"In an hour then. _Enterprise_ out."

The screen went dark. Picard sank into the chair he was standing next to. Riker sat down beside him. "Comments, Number One?"

"He seems nervous."

"Yes, he does." Picard leaned back in his chair and ran a hand across the back of his neck.

"You know him, sir. Is he normally a nervous person?" Riker asked.

A slow grin broke across the captain's face. "I've known Schaeffer Featherstone to be many things, but nervous was never one of them." Picard paused, allowing himself a moment to reminisce before going on. "I think there is something he wants to tell me. Something he feels he must tell me in person."

"What do you think it is?"

Picard sighed. "I have no idea. But I think we can count on one thing."

"And what is that?"

"Whatever news Schaeffer has for me, it's probably not good."

"Perhaps we'd better take Worf with us," Riker proposed. "If there's trouble down there-"

Picard held up his hand. "No. There may be trouble on Temple Four, but I don't think we'll be in any immediate danger." He could tell by the look in Riker's eyes that his first officer was about to register a protest. "Will, I know what you are about to say."

"Captain, I don't think you should..." Riker stopped. They'd had this conversation many times, and before it turned into an argument that he knew he would lose, he conceded.

Picard smiled. "You're learning," he said.

"Yes," Riker nodded. "I'm learning."

Picard was silent for a moment. "We'll have Worf standing by, ready to beam down if we need him."

~vVv~

During the next hour, Chief O'Brien oversaw the transfer of supplies to Temple IV. Will Riker, along with Data, spent the time reviewing the computer's information on the planet. And Jean-Luc Picard found himself in Sickbay once again. This time in Beverly Crusher's office.

"Stop looking at me like that," he hissed under his breath.

Doctor Crusher sat propped on the edge of her desk. Picard sat in a chair opposite her.

"Looking at you like what?" she inquired, her gaze focused steadily on the captain.

He shook his head. "I will not go out there and lie on one of those biobeds just so you can examine me."

Crusher held her hands out in front of her in an innocent gesture. "Did I suggest you should?"

Picard grimaced. "The expression on your face speaks volumes, Doctor. After all, you did demand that I come down here."

"Demand?" she exclaimed.

He sighed. "I'm sorry. Perhaps demand was too... too harsh a word."

Crusher stood and walked around to her desk chair. She sat, and took a few minutes to study Picard. He was a handsome man, with strong, chiseled features, and a lean, muscular body. Not nearly as tall as his first officer, but equally imposing. If not more so.

"Actually, Jean-Luc, you've just passed my examination. You're definitely back to normal."

Picard laughed. "As lovable as always, umm?"

Crusher smiled. She did love him, but now was not the time to discuss their tenuous relationship. "I wouldn't necessarily say lovable. But I would say hard-headed."

"Good thing that I am," Picard agreed with her assessment. "Otherwise, I might not be here."

"Don't worry; I think it will take more than a turbolift malfunction to do you in."

"Let's hope so."

Picard gazed at her, glad that she was here. The year she'd spent at Starfleet Medical had seemed interminably long, but she was home now, where she belonged. And their friendship was beginning to grow into something more, something... _That's why I've been dreaming of Clarissa._ The thought hit him hard, and yet it made sense. He'd loved Clarissa Trent, deeply. And now... _Am I in love with Beverly?_ Was he? There was no denying that he cared for her a great deal. Perhaps he should tell her about Clarissa. _No... no._ They were just finding their way, and right now the relationship didn't need another old lover. Picard winced slightly. They were having enough trouble dealing with the memory of Jack Crusher.

"Jean-Luc?"

Picard blinked. "Yes?"

"Where were you?" Crusher asked. "You seemed to be out in space... No pun intended."

He ran his hands over his face, rubbed his eyes. "Just thinking," he answered.

"You look tired."

Picard eyed the doctor fiercely. "I thought I already passed your examination."

"That was the first one. Your head is fine. Now let's worry about the rest of you." She hesitated. "You haven't been sleeping much have you?"

"Do I look that bad?" he queried.

"Just tired."

Everyone was so damned concerned lately. But he decided that placating her would be easier than arguing. "Don't worry, Beverly," he reassured. "I'm nowhere near exhaustion."

"I said tired, not exhausted. But that's where you're headed."

Picard didn't respond. Crusher continued to stare at him, the concern evident in her eyes. "I can give you something to help you sleep."

"No," he said simply, and then he took time to gather his thoughts before he spoke again. "There is something I neglected to tell you the other day."

"Pray tell?"

"I find that I too often fail to express gratitude where gratitude is due. Especially in medical situations," he added uneasily. "And so, Doctor, thank you for your expertise, and your concern. I appreciate it."

"It's just my job," she said softly.

Picard smiled. "And you do it very well."

~vVv~

Jean-Luc Picard and Will Riker materialized in a corridor just outside Schaeffer Featherstone's office. There was no one in sight.

"Well," Riker remarked, looking up and down the utilitarian beige passageway, "they didn't exactly roll out the brass band to greet us, did they?"

Picard nodded in agreement and stepped towards the closest door. It opened. They walked in and found themselves in what appeared to be an outer office. There was another door in front of them, and a small desk situated to one side of it. The room was empty.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Riker whispered.

Picard turned and glared at him. "I think you can speak up, Commander. This isn't a library." His tone was unnaturally harsh.

"Yes, sir," Riker responded quickly, and somewhat formally.

Picard sighed. "Sorry, Number One. I guess I'm just a little bit on edge."

Riker accepted his apology with an easy shrug and motioned toward a low sofa on the opposite side of the room. "Apparently, this is the waiting room. Perhaps we should sit down and wait."

"Waiting has never been my strong suit," Picard admitted, stepping toward the inner door. It didn't open. Just then, however, the outer door did.

An Andorian ensign hurried in, her head slightly bent. "Captain Picard, Commander Riker. I am Ensign Elev. I am sorry no one was here to greet you." Her voice was soft and lisping. "Commander Featherstone will be with you shortly... if you don't mind waiting?"

Picard smiled half-heartedly. "Of course, we will wait."

He and Riker settled themselves on the edge of the sofa, and the ensign sat at her desk. She began working intently at her computer console. Picard eyed Riker wearily. He did not like to wait. It bothered him. But what bothered him more was the fact that he was having to wait in the first place.

Schaeffer Featherstone had always been punctual.

~vVv~


	3. Chapter 3

On board the _Enterprise_, Wesley Crusher stood in front of the door to the holodeck. He'd already programmed the computer and was just waiting to go in. And yet, he was afraid to.

He'd worked for months on this particular program, and a part of him was dying to see how it had turned out. But still, he hesitated. _Perhaps it's better to leave some things alone,_ he thought. _After all, there are things in life that shouldn't be tampered with._ _But this is the holodeck,_ he reminded himself, and it had nothing to do with life. It was all just make-believe on a grand scale.

He continued to stand there.

Someone passed behind him in the corridor, and he quickly reached his hand up to the computer panel to cancel the holodeck's program. But he stopped himself. _No._ This was something he had to face. After months of research, this was something he wanted to do. He activated the door, and it slid open.

Wesley Crusher stepped into the Golden Gate Park, and the _Enterprise_ seemingly disappeared behind him. It was a warm spring day, with a faint breeze blowing in off the bay. The sky was a hard, bright, royal blue, with an occasional wisp of a white cloud feathered across it. In the distance, Wesley could hear the voices of children at play, and the scream of seagulls down by the wharf.

He'd been here before. Once, when he was three years old, his mother had taken him. It was the first time he could remember walking barefooted on grass, and he could still recall the feel of it, the smells and the sounds. It had been a day exactly like the one he'd just walked into. He'd programmed it that way.

He looked around expectantly. But there was no one there. No one. He felt a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It hadn't worked. All those months of planning, and digging for information, and it hadn't worked. Except for the park, it had been a total failure. He took one last look and turned to leave.

"Going somewhere?"

Wesley froze. And then he turned back around. The man walking towards him was dressed in the familiar cranberry-colored uniform of command. He was tall, and lean, with light brown hair swept back off a high forehead. And he was smiling. Wesley couldn't help but smile back.

"You're not leaving are you?" the man asked, as he came to a halt in front of Wesley.

Wesley was speechless, but only for a moment. He swallowed. "I was, but..." Wesley shook his head. It was him. It looked just like the picture his mother had kept on her bedside table all those years. It was really Jack Crusher.

"Why don't we go for a walk, son?" The voice was the same as the one on the personal log tapes Wesley had stayed up listening to, night after night.

"Sure," he murmured.

They started across the field of grass, heading for the trees in the distance.

"So," Jack Crusher began, "how are things?"

"Things are fine," Wesley answered tentatively.

"And your mother? How is she?"

"She's fine."

"She enjoyed her year as head of Starfleet Medical?"

"Yes."

"Always knew she'd make it to the top." There was pride in his voice.

"You did?" Wesley looked over at him.

"Oh, yes. Very talented woman, your mom. Of course, I knew she wouldn't be able to stay away from the _Enterprise_ for long."

Wesley blushed. "I think she missed me."

"I'm sure she did," the man agreed with a grin on his face. "You and... the rest of the crew."

They'd reached the trees and there was a bench. They both sat down.

"So," Jack Crusher rested his hand on Wesley's shoulder. It was warm and solid. "What do you want to do with your life?"

"I want to be a Starfleet officer," Wesley answered, wondering if it would have really been like this if Jack Crusher had lived.

"I thought as much," his father responded. "You're definitely a product of your parents."

"Mom always says I'm definitely your son."

"She still says that?"

Wesley nodded affirmatively.

"She used to say that back when you were in diapers," Jack Crusher continued, "and you used to spit up a lot."

They both laughed, and the sun shone down in dappled patterns of green-gold through the rustling leaves overhead. It was a moment Wesley had longed for all his life. And then, the illusion shattered.

"Ensign Crusher?" The voice came out of nowhere. It belonged to Geordi LaForge.

Wesley tapped his communicator. "Ensign Crusher here."

"Wes," LaForge said, "I could use your help in Engineering, if you can spare the time."

"I'll be right there, Geordi."

Wesley turned and looked at Jack Crusher. Only he knew it wasn't Jack Crusher, and he felt like a fool for letting himself pretend. But the holodeck image spoke.

"Wes," the man held his gaze steady, "I'm as real as you need me to be."

Wesley stiffened. The image shouldn't have said something like that. It shouldn't have alluded to the fact that it wasn't really what it had been programmed to be.

"Don't worry, Wes. We'll talk again. Okay?"

Wesley nodded. "Okay. Program over, and save."

Jack Crusher blinked out of existence, and Wesley Crusher left an empty holodeck behind him.

~vVv~


	4. Chapter 4

Picard and Riker did not wait long. Ten minutes later, Schaeffer Featherstone entered.

"Jean-Luc," he exclaimed, holding out his hand. Picard grasped it in his own, and mutually, they pulled each other into an embrace.

"Schaeffer." Picard stepped back, studied him. His face was lined, and he looked tired. _And old,_ Picard thought. _Damn, he looks old._ _And he's five years younger than I am._ "Schaeffer," Picard continued, "I'd like to introduce my first officer, Commander Will Riker."

Riker and Featherstone shook hands, and then the base commander ushered them into his office.

Jean-Luc Picard had a permanent image of Schaeffer Featherstone tucked away in his memory: Featherstone at twenty-three, his curly dark hair pulled back in a pony-tail that hung to his shoulder blades, his short muscular body stuck half way through Margaret Bryce's second floor apartment window, while Picard stood on the ground below. They were on Earth, in Carmel, California, both on leave, and Featherstone had decided to sneak into Margaret's place in the middle of the night, surprise her, and then ask her to marry him. But when the window only opened halfway, and the tree limb he was standing on broke under his feet, the surprise was on him. It turned out that Margaret wasn't there, and Picard had laughed convulsively for almost five minutes before he pulled himself together and located a ladder. It was a moment, frozen in time, that Picard had carried with him for over twenty years.

Now, sitting in Featherstone's office, Picard realized it was a different man across from him. Gone was the long hair and the clear worry-free eyes. There was no longer a lilt in his voice. There was, instead, a nervous tension in the office, and it was emanating from Featherstone.

He fixed Riker and Picard with a steady gaze. "We've had some trouble down here," he began. "I didn't want to discuss it over the comm channels." He hesitated. "Four days ago, there was a chemical explosion in one of our labs." His face was pale. "We lost five of our best scientists."

Picard winced. He knew how Featherstone felt. There was a terrible, aching helplessness when one lost personnel.

"What caused the explosion?" Riker asked.

Featherstone leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers in front of him. "That, we don't know yet." He sighed. "The chemicals they were working with were highly explosive, but they were all excellent scientists. It's inconceivable to me that something they did caused it."

"Then you don't think it was an accident?" Picard questioned.

"No. I have a security team investigating, but so far we haven't sifted any information out of the rubble. Everything was totally destroyed."

Picard studied his old friend. "You've already formed a hypothesis, haven't you?" The captain's voice was low.

"Yes," Featherstone admitted, "but I have nothing to back it up with."

"Tell us anyway," Picard said.

"I think it was one of my own people." There was a sharp edge to his tone, and he shook his head. "It's not something any commander wants to suspect of one of his crew."

"Why do you think it's one of your people?" Riker inquired, leaning forward in his chair.

"It's just a feeling I have," he replied. "A feeling I don't like."

"All right." Picard took a deep breath. "If we assume that it was someone here on the base, what possible motive could he have? What exactly were they working on in that lab?"

"I've been reviewing the journals they were keeping, and according to their reports, they were close to developing a new source of chemical energy. Unfortunately, for security reasons, they kept the data on separate computer tapes, and they were destroyed in the ensuing fire. At least we think they were."

"Or hope they were," Riker added.

"Yes, it's not something we'd want the Romulans to get their hands on."

"Schaeffer," Picard spoke. "what's the possibility of the Romulans being behind this?"

"I don't know, Jean-Luc. In all the years we've been here, we haven't encountered them, not even remotely. That's why I think it's one of our own. Who else could it be?"

"What if..." Riker began, and then stopped.

"What if what, Number One?" Picard prompted.

"Well, sir, it's just that we're assuming that whoever it was either wanted the data or wanted to destroy it. What if it has nothing at all to do with their research?"

"I've thought of that, too," Featherstone interjected.

"Murder?" Picard queried.

"Anything is possible." Featherstone ran a hand through his hair and shrugged, trying to relieve the tension in his shoulders. He picked up a computer tablet and handed it to Picard. "Here's a list of the personnel we lost. We'll have to research motives on all of them. I was hoping we could use some of your security people."

"Of course." Picard took the tablet and glanced down the list of names. "My god." He felt his heart stop, and his breath caught in his throat. The fourth name was Clarissa Trent.

~vVv~

Deanna Troi set her glass on the table and stopped talking mid-sentence.

"Deanna?" Leslie Gladstrom leaned toward her. "Are you all right?"

Troi swallowed and closed her eyes. The feeling was strong. Pain. Such intense pain. And regret. It was like an ocean wave washing over her, and then it receded. She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. One hand gripped the edge of the table, as if preparing for the next wave. But it did not come. She allowed herself to breathe easier.

"Deanna? What is it?" Gladstrom's pixie face was twisted with concern.

Troi half smiled at her reassuringly. "It's nothing, Leslie."

"Deanna, don't tell me it was nothing. You were in pain."

Leslie Gladstrom knew what she was talking about. After all, she'd spent a lot of time with Troi after Ian had died and left. She knew pain on the counselor's face when she saw it.

"Hey, friend. Remember who you're talking to." She covered Troi's hand with her own, squeezed it gently and then pulled back.

"Thank you, Leslie. But really, it's nothing. You know how we Betazoids are. Even when I try not to, I'm constantly picking up on other people's feelings."

Gladstrom shook her head. "Then someone on board this ship is in a great deal of pain."

"Perhaps," Troi murmured. Or someone not on board this ship. She pushed her chair back from the table. "Leslie, I have to go." She stood. "Please, don't worry. I'm fine."

She hurried out of Ten Forward, oblivious to the people around her. The pain was gone. But what she felt now was even more distressing. It was an emptiness. A suffocating emptiness. As if someone needed to reach out and be held, but there was no one there.

She was in the corridor now, and she stopped, leaned against the wall. Blessedly, there was no one around, and she afforded herself the time to think. It was not someone on board the _Enterprise._ Although the feelings were strong, they were far away. She knew that Will Riker and Captain Picard were on the surface of Temple IV, meeting with the base commander. She pulled herself together and hurried to the nearest turbolift. She wanted to be on the bridge. As if by being there, she would somehow be closer to the two men on the planet below.

~vVv~

Will Riker leaned protectively toward his captain. The look on Picard's face was that of utter shock. Riker could tell he was fighting to control his emotions. He'd seen him do it before. But this time, it was different.

"Captain?"

Picard forced himself to relax. He swallowed several times to ease the tension in his throat. He could feel Riker's and Featherstone's eyes on him.

"Jean-Luc?" Featherstone's voice was low. "You knew one of the people on that list." It was not so much a question as it was a simple statement.

"Yes," Picard managed, struggling to keep his voice from breaking. "I do. I... did. Clarissa Trent was an old friend of mine." He was breathing somewhat easier now, but there was still a constricted pain in his chest.

"I had no idea," Featherstone said. "Clarissa never told me she knew you."

_So, she'd burned all her bridges,_ Picard thought with regret. "She was stationed on the _Stargazer_ for a few years," he explained. "After that, we lost touch with each other." Picard reached out and set the computer tablet on the edge of Featherstone's desk. "How long had she been here?" His mind cringed at the past tense.

"A little over four years," Featherstone answered. "She was quite a special person."

"Yes," Picard agreed, "she was." _A very special person._ "Number One." He looked over at Riker. "I think we should beam back up to the ship, have Worf assemble a security team. Schaeffer," he glanced across the desk, "you haven't informed Starfleet about this, have you?" His tone was all business now.

"No," Featherstone sighed. "I knew you were on your way, and the _Enterprise's_ ability to send coded messages is far greater than the base's. Besides, like I said, I don't trust everyone on the base right now."

Picard pushed himself out of the chair he was sitting in. Riker and Featherstone followed suit.

"We'll get to the bottom of this, Schaeffer," Picard promised. "I'll send a security team down here within the next few hours."

Featherstone nodded. "Thank you."

"Number One," Picard said simply.

Riker touched his communicator. "_Enterprise_, two to beam up."

The air shimmered with light and a faint hum, and they were gone. Schaeffer Featherstone sat down heavily in his chair, and for a fleeting moment, before he turned his thoughts to more pressing matters, he wondered why Clarissa Trent had never mentioned Jean-Luc Picard's name.

~vVv~

The captain and his first officer stepped down from the transporter pad. Chief O'Brien stood behind the control panel, and Lieutenant Worf stood in the exact spot they'd left him in almost an hour before.

"Lieutenant," Picard strode past him out the transporter room door and into the corridor. Worf and Riker followed. "Commander Riker will brief you on the situation, and assist you in assembling your security team. Number One, I want a complete senior staff meeting in the observation lounge in forty-five minutes. If I'm needed before then, I will be in my quarters."

They'd come to a juncture in the passage way, and Picard left them with a curt nod of his head. Worf and Riker headed in the opposite direction, towards the turbolift, on their way to the bridge.

~vVv~

As soon as the door to his cabin slid closed behind him, Picard felt the trembling begin. It came from deep within, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not control it.

He walked into his bedroom and sank on to the edge of his bed. He could feel tears gathering in his eyes, and he silently reprimanded himself. He'd seen more than his share of death, and it was not in his nature to succumb to such overt emotion. But he could not help it. The image of Clarissa Trent was clear in his mind's eye. His memories of her were as fresh as when they were made.

He lay back on the bed and stared out the viewport above him. He realized, with a growing sense of horror, that four days ago, when he'd been dreaming of her, Clarissa had been dying. And calling out to him. He rubbed his eyes. Tears blurred his vision of the stars above. He did not believe in the supernatural, but he did believe in psychic connections. After all, one could not have a half-Betazoid counselor, and disbelieve all things psychic. But to have a link with someone whom he had not seen in years, and from so great a distance.

Fragments of his dreams returned to him. She'd been trying to tell him something. What? That she was dying, that she needed him. And he had not been there. God, it hurt. He had not hurt like this in years. He closed his eyes tightly, and Jean-Luc Picard did something he had not done in a very long time. He gave into the trembling and allowed himself to cry.

~vVv~


	5. Chapter 5

Wesley Crusher was with Geordi LaForge when the chief engineer received his summons to the observation lounge. They were in Engineering working on hypothetical problems and solutions, one of their favorite conversations.

"Senior staff meeting," Wesley said raising his eyebrows as he accompanied LaForge to the bridge. "Must be something serious."

LaForge shook his head. "Or maybe not." He gave Wesley a good-natured pat on the back. "I'll let you know, so don't worry about it."

"Oh, I'm not worried. I have complete trust in the _Enterprise's_ senior staff." He grinned, then quickly glanced away as they stepped onto the turbolift.

"Bridge," LaForge said.

_No_, Wesley Crusher thought as the lift began to move, the only thing that worried him was down on the holodeck, waiting to be called back into being.

~vVv~

Picard entered the observation lounge a few minutes past the appointed time. He suspected that they had noticed his slight delay, but he made no allusion to it as he settled himself into his chair and took a quick glance at his assembled crew.

Beverly Crusher sat to the right of him, her hands folded in front of her, gazing at him intently. Always the doctor, always examining. Data was beside her, sitting straight and still, eyes alert. At the end of the table, Worf sat alone, energy barely contained, as if he would jump from his chair at the slightest provocation.

Picard's eyes continued around the table. Deanna Troi stared back at him, and he self-consciously looked away. He was far too vulnerable at the moment to hold up under her well-meaning scrutiny. Geordi LaForge was next to her, leaning back in his chair. Picard detected a look of satisfaction on the Chief Engineer's face. _Probably because the ship is running well, turbolifts included. _And then, there was Will Riker. First Officer, confidant, sounding board for Picard's ideas. And a friend. As were they all.

Taking a deep breath, the captain began the briefing. "As you know, our original purpose for coming to Temple IV was the delivery of highly classified supplies: chemicals, equipment, and so forth. Upon our meeting with Base Commander Featherstone, however, Commander Riker and I have been informed of a most disturbing situation. I'm sure you are aware that Temple IV is more than just a Federation mining colony. Some of the brightest scientists in the Federation are also stationed here, involved with the research of chemical power. In fact, they are very close to the discovery of a new chemical energy source." Picard paused. All eyes were on him. "Four days ago, one of their labs was destroyed in an explosion. Five people were killed. Commander Featherstone is convinced that this was not an accident. Despite the planet's proximity to the Romulan neutral zone, he doesn't suspect their involvement, although we shouldn't summarily rule out the possibility. Unfortunately, Commander Featherstone has reason to believe that it was caused by one of his own personnel." Concentrating firmly on the matter at hand, he looked at Troi. "Counselor, do you sense anything in regard to the commander's suspicions?"

Troi thought for a moment, connecting the captain's words to the feelings she'd experienced earlier. "I sense a jumble of emotions. Coming from numerous sources. Shock, pain, grief, confusion. But, if you're asking me if I sense a malevolent presence on the planet, my answer is no. Although... that doesn't mean it might not be there."

Picard nodded. It wasn't very reassuring. He shifted his gaze to Riker. "Number One, will you continue please."

"Yes, sir." Riker addressed the group. "So far, Commander Featherstone, the captain, and I have discussed two possible theories. One: that whoever caused the explosion either wanted the chemical energy data or wanted to destroy it. Or, two: his intent was to murder one or more of the scientists working in that lab, for whatever reason he may have had."

"We've put some preliminary thought into this." Picard spoke again. "And I am well aware that motives and theories are boundless. Commander Featherstone's security people have come up with very little, and he has asked me to supply him with some of our own security personnel. Lieutenant Worf has assembled a team that will be transporting down shortly. What I ask of you now, is to speculate, hypothesize, talk among yourselves. Worf and his team will be doing the majority of investigative work, but as always, your thoughts and comments are very much welcome. We've sent a coded message to Starfleet apprising them of this situation, and hopefully we will be granted sufficient time to fully investigate this matter and lend aid to the Base Command office." He glanced around the table once more. "Questions, comments?"

Crusher leaned forward. "Do they need any medical assistance? Help with autopsies?"

"No," Picard answered quickly.

Aware of the captain's discomfort, Riker provided the information. "There were no remains to autopsy."

"They do have a Base Counselor, don't they?" Troi asked. "Someone to help family and friends cope with the deaths."

"Yes," Riker answered again. "I assume so, since all outpost stations are required to have one. However, they might need some extra help in that area."

"I will be in contact with Commander Featherstone," Picard said, "and I will inquire as to what further aid we can supply." He waited a few moments, but there were no more questions. "Very well. Lieutenant Worf, I know you've worked out a contact schedule with Chief O'Brien. Keep all communication coded and to a minimum. That's all I have to say at this time. Meeting adjourned."

His staff rose around him, and Picard sat and watched them leave. Worf, Data, and LaForge together. Troi and Crusher head to head, quietly discussing something. _Probably me,_ Picard thought darkly. Only Riker lingered behind.

"Will?" Picard looked at him warily.

Riker hesitated, unsure of intruding upon the captain's personal life. But he was worried about him. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Giving up the job of First Officer to become Ship's Counselor?" Picard grinned, but he knew the strain he was feeling showed.

"No, sir. Just concerned."

Picard leaned back in his chair. "I appreciate that concern, Number One." He was silent for a moment. "Clarissa Trent was... a very dear friend. If I find myself unable to deal with her death, I'll have a good, long talk with Deanna. But for right now, I'm fine."

Riker smiled warmly. "I'll be on the bridge, sir."

Picard watched him go, and then reached out and activated the communications button on the table. There was one more person who needed to know about Clarissa. "Guinan."

"Yes, Captain." She always recognized his voice.

"I'd like to see you in my ready room when it's convenient."

"All right."

~vVv~


	6. Chapter 6

The next time Jean-Luc Picard transported down to the surface of Temple IV, he materialized in the living room of Schaeffer Featherstone's apartment. The first person he saw was Margaret Bryce Featherstone.

"Jean-Luc." She reached out and embraced him.

He kissed her on the cheek. "Margaret." He leaned back and looked at her. "You haven't changed a bit."

"Flatterer." She pushed her honey gold hair away from her forehead.

Picard shook his head. He wasn't flattering. She looked almost the same as she had the day she and Featherstone married. As beautiful as ever.

"I never imagined we'd see each other again." She led him over to the sofa and they sat down.

Picard glanced around the room. It was well decorated. Antique furniture, oriental rugs, oil paintings in gilded frames, family photographs. It had a nice, solid, lived in feeling.

"Do you remember the last time we were all together?" Margaret continued.

Picard smiled. "How could I ever forget? Starbase 12, and you'd just given birth to twins."

She nodded. "Those twins are twenty-two now."

"My god, Margaret, are we that old?"

"Ancient," she laughed.

"Are they living here?" he asked.

"Oh, no. Scott is Earth-bound. He teaches. And Douglas just graduated from the Academy last year." There was pride in her voice. "But, of course, we do still have Taylor here with us. Almost seventeen."

"Scary, isn't it?" Picard thought of another 'almost seventeen'- year-old he knew.

"Yes. But there's never a dull moment."

As if on cue, a dark haired teenager seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"Taylor, I want you to meet an old friend of ours."

Picard stood.

"You're Captain Jean-Luc Picard." The boy held out his hand, and Picard shook it. "Dad used to tell us the greatest stories about you."

"I'm afraid Schaeffer painted you as something of a legend around here."

"Legend?" Picard laughed, mulling the idea over in his mind. Well, perhaps some of their exploits were legendary, but surely Featherstone hadn't told those particular stories.

The boy turned toward Margaret. "Mom, I wanted to ask you if it would be all right if Hannah came to dinner."

"Does she want to?" Margaret asked softly.

"Yes."

"Well," she hesitated, "if it's all right with Jeffrey."

"Thanks, Mom." He was out the door in an instant, almost running his father down. "Sorry, Dad," he called over his shoulder, and was gone.

Schaeffer Featherstone shook his head and looked across the room at his old friend. "Can you believe we were once that young?"

Picard sighed. "Never."

~vVv~

Will Riker sat across from Wesley Crusher at a table in Ten Forward. Some people teased the first officer about being the boy's surrogate father, but 'friends' described their relationship much better. And it was a friendship that had grown a great deal during the past year.

"What's up, Wes?" Riker took a long sip from his coffee cup.

"I wanted to ask you a question."

"Ask away."

Wesley hesitated. "Well... it's sort of a personal question."

"I see." Riker set his coffee cup down and leaned forward. He wasn't sure he wanted to get into this conversation, but he had taken on the responsibility of helping to raise the boy. Of course, technically, that obligation had been nullified upon Beverly Crusher's return to the _Enterprise_. But still, Riker had a feeling that this might be something you wouldn't want to ask your mother. "That's all right," he replied warily. "I'll answer it if I can."

"What... what was it like having a father?"

Riker blinked and released a heavy sigh. Not one of his favorite subjects, but a hell of a lot easier to discuss than the subject he'd been expecting. "Well, Wes, it's different for everybody." His mind flashed back to his childhood, growing up in Alaska with Kyle Riker. "My father and I didn't always get along. We still don't."

"But you love him, don't you?"

Riker thought about that for a moment. A part of him hated Kyle Riker with a passion. But there was a greater part that loved him. "Yes, Wesley, despite our differences, I love him."

"Were you ever afraid of him?" Wesley's voice was strained.

"At times. Especially when I was young." Riker took a deep breath. "My father was a very forceful man. He still is."

"But have you ever been afraid to talk to him?"

Riker wondered why Wesley was asking all these questions, but he continued with his answers. "Sure. But the last time I saw him, when he was here on the ship, we talked, and well... Let's just say we have a better understanding of each other."

Wesley turned his head and looked out the viewport beside him.

"What's with all the questions, Wes?" Riker asked.

The boy glanced back at him. "Research project. Sociology."

"I see." Riker wasn't sure if he bought the explanation, but he let it slide. "If you need any more information, just ask."

"I will." Wesley got up from the table. "Thanks, Commander."

"Any time."

~vVv~

Picard gratefully accepted the drink Featherstone handed him. In the past five days, he hadn't really relaxed. Oh, he'd rested some, but he hadn't afforded himself the luxury of a good, stiff drink. He tasted the one in his hand. There was actually genuine alcohol in it. He cocked an eyebrow at his host. "This is the real stuff, Schaeff."

"Nothing but the best."

They were sitting on the glass enclosed balcony just off the living room. Outside, Temple IV's pale sun was setting, and a dust storm was beginning to blow.

Margaret stuck her head out the door behind them. "Schaeffer, Taylor's on his way to invite Hannah to dinner."

"Good."

She disappeared. _Back to the kitchen,_ Picard presumed. He remembered Margaret Bryce as an excellent cook.

"That Hannah's quite a girl," Featherstone sighed. "She's handled it remarkably well. Those first few days were bad, though." He noticed the confused look on his friend's face. And it dawned on him. Picard didn't know. That's why he hadn't asked about the girl. "When was the last time you saw Clarissa Trent?" he asked.

Picard's confusion deepened. "It's been fifteen, sixteen years. Why?"

"Hannah is Clarissa's daughter," Featherstone stated.

Picard swallowed hard. "Daughter? I never knew. Was Clarissa married?" He'd never thought about her marrying, but of course, there was no reason why she shouldn't have.

But Featherstone answered negatively. "No. Not that I know of. At least, she wasn't when she and Hannah came here. But you know Clarissa. She was quite independent."

Picard nodded. "Yes," he remembered, "she was."

"Hey, you two." Margaret was at the door again. "I've got dinner on the table."

They pushed themselves up from their chairs.

"The kids here yet?" Featherstone asked.

"Did you see them come in?" Margaret replied, smiling at him teasingly.

"Margaret, I am so tired right now, those kids could walk right in front of me, and I wouldn't even notice them." He leaned into her and kissed her.

"Come on." She pulled on his arm. "They'll be here any minute."

Picard followed the two of them into the living room. A part of him envied their relationship. The closeness. The easiness between them. After Clarissa had left, he'd come to believe that being a starship captain and a husband were mutually exclusive. Perhaps they were. At least, they had been for him.

And now. Now he couldn't believe that in a few minutes he was going to meet Clarissa's child. So, she'd found someone else to love after him. And even if that relationship hadn't lasted, well, she'd gotten something lasting from it. A daughter.

Just then the door slid open and Taylor walked into the apartment, a small dark haired girl following him. She looked to be about twelve. Her hair was like Clarissa's, but her eyes were blue, not brown. And she really didn't look like her mother. _Probably takes after her father,_ Picard thought.

~vVv~

Will Riker finished drinking the cold coffee left in the bottom of his cup. It was bitter. As of late, he'd actually come to prefer it that way. It gave him an added edge.

"Did you and Wes have a good talk?" The voice came from behind him.

"Yes, Deanna," he answered, "we did." She stepped into his line of vision, and he grinned. "You like it when people have good talks, don't you?"

Deanna Troi sat down in the chair across from him and gazed into his eyes. "I like it better when we have good talks." _Imzadi._

He felt the name whisper in his mind, caressingly soft and gentle, like the touches they'd shared in the past. She had not called him that in a long time, and he looked away, uncomfortable. He was never quite sure where they stood with each other.

"Will," her voice drew him back. "We need to talk."

"About Wes?"

"No," she smiled, "not about Wes. And not about us." She saw a look of relief pass over his face. "At least, not now," she amended, and looked at him with those warm, dark eyes.

He felt himself blush. She was the only woman who could do that to him. Luckily, the lighting in Ten Forward kept her from noticing. Although, he knew that she didn't need to see him to know of his reaction. Deanna Troi knew him too well.

"So, what do we need to talk about?" He pushed his coffee cup back and forth between his hands.

"Not what. Who." Troi took a deep breath. "Will, I'm concerned about the captain."

Riker sighed. "I am, too."

"Ever since his accident in the turbolift, he's been pre-occupied, worried. He told me several days ago that there was something on his mind, but he didn't say what."

_Several days ago._ Riker leaned across the table and touched Troi's arm. "He told you that before we beamed down to Temple IV?"

She nodded, surprised at the look of confusion on his face. "Yes, but while the two of you were down there, I felt..." She hesitated, sifting through her thoughts. "Will, one of those scientists that died was a friend of the captain's."

"I know. Did he tell you, or did you..."

Troi laid her hand on top of his. "I sensed it."

He shook his head. "I should have known."

She shrugged. "I guess we really can't do anything until he asks for our help." They exchanged a knowing glance. "If he asks for our help."

"He did tell me he'd talk to you, if he felt he needed to."

"That makes me feel a little better."

"And if you feel better, then I feel better," Riker said solemnly.

Troi playfully pushed his hand away from her arm. "Oh, you," she laughed. "I should worry more about _Enterprise's_ first officer than her captain."

A slow grin broke over Riker's face. "You worry about me?"

She fixed her eyes on him. "All the time." _Imzadi._

~vVv~


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm glad you came back." Jack Crusher was standing on a bluff overlooking the bay. The water below sparkled and glinted in the bright sunlight. "I was afraid you might not," he continued, glancing over at the boy.

Wesley returned his gaze. "I almost didn't," he admitted.

"I hope I didn't frighten you."

"Oh, you didn't frighten me." Wesley felt the man's eyes on him. His heart was pounding against his rib cage, his palms were sweaty. "Well, maybe a little."

There was an awkward silence.

Wesley swallowed. "Who are you?"

"Who do I look like?"

Wesley looked over at him. "You look like my father used to look when I was little."

"Your father." He turned and started to walk away, not as if he were leaving Wesley behind, but just walking.

Wesley caught up with him. "You look like Jack Crusher," he said.

The image continued walking. "That's who I'm supposed to be, isn't it?"

"Yes," Wesley answered.

"Well, that's who I am."

"But the other day, you told me you were as real as I needed you to be. You shouldn't have said that. You should believe that you're Jack Crusher."

They'd reached the bench under the tree where they'd sat before, and the man sank down onto it. Wesley stopped and stood a few feet from him.

"I do believe I'm Jack Crusher. The question is, do you?" The man's eyes were fixed intently upon the boy.

Wesley stared down at his feet. "You're a computer generated image. I programmed you."

"Yes, you programmed me. But who did you program me to be?" His voice was calm, even, almost pedantic.

"I programmed you to be Jack Crusher."

"That's right. And are you usually accurate when you program this holodeck."

Wesley flashed his eyes up in surprise.

"Yes, I know we're on a holodeck. And I'm still as real as you need me to be. I'm asking you to accept that."

Wesley wanted to. Wanted desperately to believe that the man sitting there under the tree was his father. After all, it looked like him. And sounded like him. The real Jack Crusher had been a Starfleet commander. He would have known what a holodeck was.

Wesley walked over and sat down next to the man. He didn't feel frightened anymore, or threatened. Sure, it was make-believe. But perhaps the key word was 'believe.' "All right," Wesley said quietly.

"All right?" Jack Crusher's voice was gentle.

"Yeah, all right... Dad."

~vVv~

It was an awkward feeling to be sitting across the table from Clarissa's daughter. And painful in the realization that Clarissa would not be joining them for dinner.

The girl did not take her eyes off Picard, and it made him feel uneasy. Children always made him feel that way. But this child in particular. And yet, his heart went out to her. To be so young, and suddenly so alone.

Dinner had barely begun when Schaeffer Featherstone's communicator beeped. He tapped it. "Featherstone here."

"Commander. This is Lieutenant Worf. You and Captain Picard are needed in Sickbay immediately."

Featherstone glanced at Picard, and he nodded. "We'll be right there," replied the commander.

They stood, and made their apologies to Margaret and the children. Even as they were leaving, Picard could feel Hannah's gaze following him out the door.

~vVv~


	8. Chapter 8

Something had happened.

When Picard and Featherstone walked into Temple IV's sickbay, there were security guards posted everywhere. Picard recognized some of his own crew. In the corner of the room, Worf stood next to an examining table. A man in a blue Starfleet Medical uniform was with him. Picard's first thought was that the Klingon had been injured, but as he and Featherstone came closer, he realized, with a sense of relief, that it was not Worf the doctor was attending. A blond haired man, dressed in tan coveralls, sat on the edge of the table, holding a hand to the back of his head.

"Jeffrey!" Featherstone exclaimed.

The man looked up. Bruises were beginning to form on his face, and his left eye was almost swollen shut. Just beyond him, on another table, doctors leaning over him, lay the unconscious form of another man.

"What in the hell happened?" Featherstone demanded, glaring at Worf, the doctor, and Jeffrey.

"Kieran tried to kill me," Jeffrey answered, his voice barely audible.

"He what?" Featherstone asked anxiously.

"I know it's hard to believe, Schaeffer. I still don't believe it, but..." He sighed. "Kieran attacked me in my office while I was working. He was babbling on about the explosion, and how I was supposed to have died in it." His shoulders sagged. "I didn't want to, but I... I had to fight back."

Featherstone looked over at his Chief Medical Officer. "How is Kieran?" he inquired.

The doctor shook his head. "Not good. He's suffered a severe skull fracture. Normally, it would be very easy to repair, but there seems to be a significant amount of brain damage. His vital signs are stabilized; I just don't know if or when he'll regain consciousness."

"He must have hit his head on the side of my desk." Jeffrey closed his eyes and lowered his face, his chin against his chest. "I... I didn't mean to... I couldn't help it. He wouldn't stop."

Featherstone reached out touched the man's shoulder. "It's all right, Jeffrey. I understand. You did what you had to. Get some rest, and we'll talk later."

Jeffrey looked up. "Hannah?"

"Don't worry about Hannah," Featherstone assured him. "She can stay with us. Margaret will take good care of her."

Jeffrey breathed a heavy sigh of relief, and the commander turned away. With a nod of his head, he indicated the opposite corner of the room. Picard and Worf followed him over to it.

"I never would have suspected Kieran Mackintosh."

"Who is Mackintosh?" Picard asked.

"He's one of our geologists." Featherstone glanced over at Worf. "What do you know about this, Lieutenant?"

"Only what Lieutenant Madison has reported."

"Jeffrey Madison. Chemical engineer with Starfleet." Featherstone supplied Picard with the information.

"Lieutenant Madison called for Security," Worf continued. "We arrived at his office and found Ensign Mackintosh unconscious. According to Madison, Mackintosh entered his office, and then attacked him. We really don't know any more than that. I'd like to search Ensign Mackintosh's quarters."

"Of course," Featherstone agreed. "Report to me promptly when you're finished."

"Yes, sir." Worf looked at Picard, inclined his head sharply by way of dismissal, and then left, the sickbay door sliding closed behind him.

Featherstone leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply.

"Schaeffer?"

The man opened his eyes. "I'm all right, Jean-Luc. Well, we have a new question."

Picard nodded. "I suppose we do."

"No longer who," Featherstone mumbled, "but why." He rubbed his eyes and grimaced. "I just don't understand this. Kieran Mackintosh has a spotless record."

"Perhaps Worf will find something in his quarters that will shed some light upon the problem."

"Good choice of words. I feel as if we're all in some dark tunnel, and we could use a little illumination."

"Schaeffer?" Picard's voice was hesitant. "Exactly who is Jeffrey Madison? Aside from a chemical engineer with Starfleet."

Featherstone looked hard at Picard. He'd already figured out that Clarissa Trent had been something more than just an 'old friend.' Explaining who Jeffrey Madison was wouldn't be easy. The commander turned and walked into the office behind them. "Why don't we talk in here."

Picard followed him into the room, and the door slid closed. Featherstone sank into a chair, and Picard did likewise.

"Who is Jeffrey Madison?" Picard asked again, although he already suspected the answer.

Featherstone leaned back and studied the ceiling for a few moments before leveling his gaze on Picard. The truth was always easier when stated simply and to the point. "Jeffrey and Clarissa were lovers. They'd been living together for almost three years. He has unofficial custody of Hannah right now."

Picard was silent, allowing Featherstone's words to sink in.

"Clarissa meant something to you, didn't she, Jean-Luc?"

Picard looked down. His hands were clutched together in his lap, and only then did he realize how physically tense he was. He unclenched his fingers, reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck. The muscles in his shoulders were tight. "It was years ago," he said softly.

But Schaeffer Featherstone knew better. Years ago could seem like yesterday where love was concerned. Some feelings never really faded; they just got buried under other concerns and other memories. Other loves. Until something like Clarissa's death happened, and those feelings were uncovered and laid bare.

"I'm sorry, Jean-Luc."

Picard looked away so that Featherstone would not see the hurt and regret in his eyes. "So am I," he whispered. _So am I._

~vVv~

Jean-Luc Picard and Clarissa Trent had been lovers, all those years ago. Picard could remember, with aching clarity, how they had reveled in each other's bodies, making love and holding each other, then making love again.

He could close his eyes and still see her, curled on the bed in his quarters, her hair dark against the pillow, her skin soft and warm. She was graceful and delicate, and he'd always felt awkward next to her. He'd told her that once, and had expected her to laugh. But she hadn't. Instead, she'd very gently kissed his lips, drawn him closer, and held him.

"It's all right," she'd whispered. "I love you, and that doesn't feel awkward at all."

With her, he wasn't the captain of the _Stargazer_, he was simply Jean-Luc. And regardless of all his doubts and fears, she'd loved him. And he'd believed her. Even after she'd left, he'd believed that Clarissa Trent had loved him. Because Jean-Luc Picard knew that he'd loved her.

~vVv~


	9. Chapter 9

A detailed search of Kieran Mackintosh's quarters yielded nothing. It had been almost a week since the explosion, and Schaeffer Featherstone realized that the man in Sickbay might be the only answer they would ever have to the mystery. And that wasn't much of an answer if Mackintosh never regained consciousness. Further discussion with Jeffrey Madison revealed no indication as to why Mackintosh had attacked him. In fact, Madison had always considered the two of them to be friends.

Worf and his security team beamed back aboard the _Enterprise_ and reported their findings directly to Starfleet Command. Starfleet accepted Mackintosh's guilt, and as far as they were concerned, the case was closed. That's the way Starfleet was sometimes. It's not that they were eager to sweep problems under the rug, but they liked answers, neatly wrapped solutions. From where they were, they just couldn't see the loose ends.

One of those loose ends was Hannah Trent. As much as Jeffrey Madison loved her, he agreed with Featherstone that the best place for the girl was on Dreesunus with Clarissa's parents. The _Enterprise_ had been ordered to report to Starbase Aldrin, and since Dreesunus was on its way, Featherstone requested that the starship be allowed to deliver her there. And Starfleet had granted his request.

Picard really didn't mind taking the child on the _Enterprise_, although she would be a constant reminder of her mother. The ship was big, and Picard supposed he wouldn't see the girl very much. Jeffrey Madison would be coming with her. And that was good. She would need someone familiar. Afterwards, Madison would continue on with the _Enterprise_ to Starbase Aldrin, and then return to Temple IV on another starship.

~vVv~

Jean-Luc Picard sat alone in his ready room. He'd just said goodbye to Margaret and Schaeffer Featherstone, and he wondered if he would ever see them again. It wasn't something he thought of often: old friends and whether their paths would cross in the future.

He swung around in his chair and stared out the viewport behind him. They were preparing to leave orbit, and Picard found it restful to look at the stars before their individual pinpoints of light were lost in the warp effect. They were like diamond sequins pinned on black velvet: a dazzling sight, yet familiar and vastly comforting. Especially to a starship captain. Perhaps those stars were the oldest friends he had. Picard smiled at the thought, but there was truth there. They were constant companions, and he knew his path would always cross theirs.

He stood and stretched. It was time to go on now, and his place was on the bridge. Yet he hesitated. He reached out and pressed his hand against the viewport. A part of him felt as if he were leaving Clarissa Trent on Temple IV. And perhaps he was. He'd slept the night before and had not dreamed of her. He breathed a heavy sigh.

"Captain?" It was Riker's voice.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Lieutenant Madison and Hannah Trent have beamed on board."

"Thank you, Number One. I'll be on the bridge in a moment."

"Yes, sir."

Picard took one last look at the stars, and he realized that he wasn't leaving Clarissa. In fact, he was taking a part of her with him. All the way to Dreesunus.

~vVv~


	10. Chapter 10

Wesley Crusher lay sprawled on the grass in the middle of the park. Instead of his regular clothing, he was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt. A cap was pulled down over his eyes to block the sun.

"No more," he shouted, flexing his left hand. A baseball glove lay next to him.

Jack Crusher jogged over and collapsed on the grass beside him. "Hey, this was your idea, kid. Baseball with the old man."

Wesley pushed the brim of the cap back on his forehead and squinted up at his father. The man was smiling and didn't look the least bit winded. Wesley was exhausted. And his hand hurt.

First he'd raced all over the field after pop flies. And then, when he was sufficiently tired, he mercifully got to stand in one place and just play catch. Unfortunately, Jack Crusher threw the ball hard.

"Didn't you enjoy yourself?" his father asked.

"Yeah," the boy grinned. "I'm just tired. I don't ever get to play baseball."

"You and your friends don't play?"

Wesley sighed. "I really don't have many friends my age."

"What about friends not your age?" the man suggested.

Wesley laughed and rolled over on his stomach. He propped his chin in his hands. "Like who?"

"Like... Will Riker."

Wesley rolled his eyes. "I can't see myself playing baseball with Commander Riker, and besides, he wouldn't have time for it anyway."

"Have you ever asked him?"

"No." He stared at his father. "And there's no need to now."

Jack Crusher looked confused.

"I can play with you," Wesley explained.

The man nodded. "Of course, you can. I was just thinking it might be nice to play with someone who's..." His voice trailed off.

Wesley felt a chill run through his body, even though it was eighty degrees in the sun. He shivered. "You were going to say real, weren't you?" He stared at his father.

The elder Crusher didn't answer.

"Weren't you?" Wesley's voice was louder now. He pushed himself up off the ground.

The man looked up. "No. It's just that Will Riker can walk off the holodeck with you when you're finished." There was a trace of sadness in his tone.

Wesley knelt back down on the grass, close to his father. Suddenly, he understood. "I don't care about that. Commander Riker isn't my father. You are."

"Yes, I am." Jack Crusher answered, reaching out and putting his arms around his son.

Something was terribly wrong. Wesley could feel it. But he wasn't afraid. It was like being wrong and right, all at the same time. It wasn't possible, and yet Wesley knew, was sure in some way, that this man, his father, Jack Crusher, was more than just an image.

The embrace lasted a few seconds before Wesley extricated himself from his father's arms.

"Sorry," Jack Crusher apologized. "I forgot. Boys your age don't go in much for hugging."

"It's all right. Mom always does." Wesley settled back, cross-legged on the ground.

"I remember," his father said quietly.

Wesley sighed and looked away, his hand absent-mindedly playing with a blade of grass.

"You missed her a lot while she was away, didn't you?" The man's voice was gentle.

"Yeah," Wesley agreed.

"I've missed her, too."

Wesley glanced back at his father.

"Your mom and I had some great times," he said dreamily, as if part of him were reliving those long ago moments. "Some really good years. We thought we'd always be together, just the two of us. And then, when you came along, well... it was the three of us."

Wesley smiled, imagining what it must have been like, those first few years of his life that he couldn't remember.

"When you're young, you think you're going to live forever," Jack Crusher continued soberly.

"Nothing last forever," Wesley said, almost bitterly.

"I know, son, and I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"About dying."

Wesley felt uncomfortable. And scared. Not of his father, but of the feelings welling up inside of him, feelings he'd always repressed. He shrugged. "It wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't anybody's fault, Wes."

"I used to think sometimes that Mom thought it was Captain Picard's fault."

"It wasn't," Jack Crusher said firmly.

"I know." Wesley hesitated. "But sometimes, he looks at me funny, like he thinks it was his fault, too."

"Jean-Luc Picard is a good man. He was a great friend." Jack Crusher smiled. "Now, there's a baseball player."

Wesley gaped at his father. "You're kidding?" The thought of Captain Picard playing baseball lightened the mood.

"No. As I remember it, he was pretty good." His father laughed. "He used to have this old blue baseball cap. He loved it, wore it all the time while he was at the Academy. When he started losing his hair, I used to tell him it was the cap's fault, that the top of his head wasn't getting enough oxygen."

Wesley's eyes had grown wide. "You used to say that to Captain Picard?"

"He wasn't a captain then, but I knew he would be someday. One of the greatest moments of my life, aside from meeting your mom and having you, was when I got posted to the _Stargazer_, and Jean-Luc and I got a chance to serve together. And you know what? He still had that baseball cap. Of course, he'd only wear it when he was off duty and it never made it out of his cabin. He used to wear it when we played poker. Said it brought him luck." Jack Crusher sighed. "It must have. Jean-Luc was always lucky. Smart. Damn good at cricket, too."

"Cricket?" Wesley shook his head in disbelief. "I never thought about Captain Picard playing sports. I mean, I know he rides horses, but..."

"Do you ever talk to him?"

"No. Not really." Wesley lowered his eyes. "I bother him."

"Why?"

"I think because I remind him of you."

"And is that so bad?"

"I don't know. Mom says I remind her of you. I think that bothers her sometimes, too." He sighed, wishing he didn't bother quite so many people.

"So, you and Commander Riker talk?" His father suddenly changed the subject.

Wesley looked back up. "Sometimes. He's pretty neat. I mean... I have a lot of respect for him."

"I see. You just don't think he'd like to play baseball."

"Dad!" Wesley groaned. "Give it up, okay?"

"Okay."

They gazed at each other for a few moments, and then Wesley jumped up. "I gotta go now."

Jack Crusher got to his feet as well, bending over at the same time to pick up the baseball glove from the ground. "Don't forget this."

Wesley reached out and took it. "Thanks... for everything." He turned away. "Program over, and save."

The park disappeared, and the holodeck doors opened in front of him. He hurried out and ran straight into Will Riker. "Commander!" Wesley stepped back.

"Hello, Wes."

Instead of his uniform, Riker was wearing blue jeans, a red plaid shirt, and a fishing vest with pockets and lures all over it. In one hand, he held a rod and reel, in the other, a tackle box. He reached past Wesley's shoulder and keyed a program into the control panel.

"You're going fishing?" Wesley stared at him.

"Yeah," Riker smiled. "You wanna go?"

"I can't. I gotta be on the bridge in ten minutes."

Riker nodded. "Well, maybe another time."

Through the portal Wesley saw a snow capped mountain range and a dark, green forest. "Is that Alaska?"

"Sure is," Riker answered wistfully. "And just behind that pine tree is Curtis Creek. Best fishing in the universe." He stepped through the door, then paused and looked back at Wesley. "Next time, you come with me. All right?"

"All right."

The door slid closed. Wesley grinned. _Fishing._ Well, it wasn't exactly baseball, but maybe it would do.

~vVv~


	11. Chapter 11

Picard asked Deanna Troi to look in on Jeffrey Madison and Hannah Trent, make sure they were comfortable and see if there was anything they needed. Perhaps he should have gone, but he could not bring himself to do so.

He told himself he was needed elsewhere, that he had duties to perform, greater concerns that required his attention. And, it was his privilege to delegate certain responsibilities. After all, he was the captain.

_Ah, what a multitude of sins that covers,_ Jean-Luc Picard thought as he stepped hesitantly onto the turbolift. The damn things still made him a bit nervous, as if his little accident a week ago had been the catalyst for all the events since then. _Foolish,_ he shook his head, _utterly foolish._

"Deck Nine. Officer's quarters," he intoned.

The lift moved smoothly, almost imperceptibly. Picard stifled a yawn; he was tired. Not only physically, but mentally as well. Another night of dreamless sleep was inviting.

The lift doors slid open, and Picard stepped out. _In one piece,_ he laughed to himself as he headed towards his cabin. He rounded a corner - and came face to face with Hannah Trent.

"Captain Picard!" The girl's eyes widened.

"Hannah," he smiled warmly despite his sudden nervousness. _What the devil is she doing roaming around the ship unattended?_

"I was looking for you," she said, as if answering his unspoken question.

"You were?"

"Yes, sir."

Picard could tell she'd been running by the color in her cheeks and the breathless quality to her voice. _Running through the corridors of my ship!_

"I wanted to talk to you."

He was surprised by her directness. On those rare occasions when he came in contact with children on the _Enterprise_, they seemed to be afraid of him and were careful to give him a wide berth. After all, as Wesley Crusher had informed him not long ago, everybody knew he didn't like children. But that wasn't exactly true. It wasn't that he didn't like them; he just didn't know what to do with them. And so, instead of admitting to this fault, he allowed the rumor to persist. This child, apparently, had not heard it, or did not hold with it. She seemed totally unafraid of him. And she wanted to talk.

That surprised him, also. She'd been so painfully quiet that night at the Featherstone's. But now there was an eagerness on her face, as if she had a thousand questions to ask of him. Questions, he suspected, he would rather not answer.

He glanced around the passageway, contemplating an excuse, but decided against it. It would be rude to avoid the girl, and besides, a part of him was curious as to what she wanted.

"Well, I think that can be arranged," he replied. A thought came to him. "Have you visited Ten Forward yet?"

"Ten Forward?" she questioned.

"You'll see." He turned and walked back to the turbolift. Hannah followed. "Deck Ten," he instructed. He looked down at the child. She was gazing up at him intently. He recognized her expression. It was one of both trust and doubt. And he'd seen it before. On Clarissa's face.

~vVv~

Ten Forward was not crowded, and Picard was thankful for that. The fewer the people, the fewer curious stares he and Hannah would receive. The captain in the company of a child would definitely be a curiosity. And as he'd expected, a half a dozen heads turned as soon as they entered the lounge. He returned their looks with one of his own, and the heads swung back around. All but one. Guinan stood behind the pastel lit bar watching them. She'd been there, on the _Stargazer_ fifteen years ago, when Picard had fallen in love with Clarissa Trent. It seemed right for her to be here now. Like the stars, Guinan lent a certain degree of continuity to his life, and that was a rare feeling for a Starfleet officer.

Picard had informed Guinan of Clarissa's death in a simple, straightforward manner. But neither of them had looked back. Picard had not permitted himself to share his memories of Clarissa with Guinan. Nor had Guinan shared hers. And now, Picard was here, about to introduce Guinan to Clarissa's daughter. But introductions were not necessary.

"Captain, Hannah," Guinan welcomed them as they walked over and sat at the bar.

A look of wonder came over Hannah's face, and suddenly she smiled. "You're Guinan," she whispered.

Guinan returned the smile. "Yes," she answered, "I am."

"She told me all about you."

Guinan nodded. "I'm glad. Because she told me all about you."

Picard looked sharply at Guinan. She'd known. All these years, and she'd remained in contact with Clarissa. He'd assumed that because he'd lost touch with her, Guinan had also.

"I'm sorry, Hannah," Guinan continued softly. "I will miss her."

The girl's eyes fluttered slightly. "I will, too," she murmured, looking away toward the viewports. Without another word, she slid off her seat and walked over to them. Picard watched her. She looked so small silhouetted against the warp of space.

He glanced back at Guinan. "I didn't know you knew about her."

"Well, you know me, I keep up with things."

"She really doesn't look like Clarissa," Picard mused aloud.

"No," Guinan agreed, "she doesn't."

Picard steepled his fingers on the bar in front of him. "She says she wants to talk to me." He hesitated. "Perhaps, Guinan, she'd rather talk with you."

Guinan shook her head. "No. If she wants to talk to you, _you_ need to be the one who listens."

Picard sighed. "It's funny. I can travel to the edges of the universe, encounter life forms never before imagined, but I... I don't know how to talk to children."

"Maybe you could just let her talk, and then take it from there."

Picard frowned and looked over at the child. Hannah turned away from the viewport and walked back to the bar. She sat down next to him.

"Well," Guinan said brightly, "what can I get for you?"

Hannah shrugged. "Nothing."

"Nothing? You come to my bar and order nothing?" Guinan teased. "How about a Scorpios Cran-apple Fizz?"

"I've never had one," Hannah answered.

"You'll love it," Guinan assured her. She shifted her eyes to Picard, and held up her hand just as he was about to speak. "I know. Tea, Earl Grey, hot."

Picard nodded, and Guinan stepped away. She returned in less than a minute with a piping hot cup of tea and a light red colored drink in a tall glass.

She placed them on the bar. "Enjoy." And then she was gone again.

Picard took a long, soothing sip of his tea. Guinan knew him well. It was just the right temperature. Not so hot as to burn his tongue, but hot enough to cause a warm glow in his chest and stomach as it went down. He allowed himself to relax a bit.

Beside him, Hannah tasted her drink. She tasted it again. The fizz tickled her nose and the back of her throat, but it was good - sweet and fruity. She took another drink and set her glass on the bar. She glanced over at the viewports, mesmerized by the view. "It's beautiful out there," she said quietly. "It must be wonderful to spend your life on a starship - to go places and see things." She turned her head and stared at Picard. "Have you always been a captain?"

Picard smiled at the question. That was an easy one. "No," he answered, "not always. But I have been for a long time."

"You were the captain on the _Stargazer_." It was not a question. "And you knew my mother."

That was not a question either, but Picard answered anyway. "Yes, Hannah, I did know your mother."

"She used to tell me stories about starships. When I was little, I used to dream about them. I dreamed that I was a captain."

"It's a good dream to have," Picard observed.

"Yeah, but I don't think it will ever come true. Especially not now." She looked down at the bar. "Captain Picard?"

"Yes?"

"How well did you know my mother?"

Picard swallowed and clutched his tea cup firmly in his hand. He'd always believed that direct questions deserved direct answers. "I knew your mother very well." So, the answer wasn't very direct.

"Did you love her?"

Picard took a deep breath. Here was the direct one. "Yes... yes, Hannah, I did."

"I thought so. All those stories, they always had a captain in them. He never had a name, but... when I met you at the Featherstone's, I knew he was you."

"It was the captain of the _Stargazer_ she told you about?" Picard inquired, doing his best to conceal the nervousness he felt.

"Well, she never really said so. But the _Stargazer_ was the only ship she ever worked on, so I figured..."

Picard hesitated, then asked, "What did she tell you about this 'captain'?" He didn't say 'me.' He did not want to personalize the conversation any further.

"He was brave and adventurous." The girl smiled. She wasn't looking at Picard, but staring across the bar at the mirror on the opposite wall. "Sort of like a knight in shining armor. He was always the hero."

"I see," Picard said. But he didn't see at all. He was confused and unsure of what she was trying to tell him.

"Anyway," Hannah continued, "I'm glad I finally got to meet you. At least now the captain has a name."

Picard smiled weakly at her. He did not know what to say. He'd never considered himself a hero, not in anyone's eyes. Yet Clarissa had left the _Stargazer_, and years later told her child stories about him. Why? Perhaps it was a question with no answer. He looked over at the girl. She was staring at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to tell her something. Something important. "I'm glad I got to meet you, too, Hannah," was all he managed.

~vVv~

Picard walked alone down the tree lined, pebbled road, through the French countryside at dusk. Above the dark shadows of the trees, the sky was pale pink. And the air was cool, sweet and clean.

He was wearing his uniform, but a hundred meters back he'd stopped and removed his boots. Barefoot now, he felt the sharp stones and sand between his toes. _What a sight,_ he thought. _A starship captain walking barefooted._ But he didn't let it bother him. No one would see. And besides, it took him back to a far simpler time: his childhood.

As a boy, the surrounding countryside had been very special to him. Alone, he would play for hours, pretending to be characters from books he'd read: Robin Hood, Little John, King Arthur, Merlin. He'd been a solitary child. Although he'd had some friends, more often than not, he'd preferred to be by himself. That way he could make all the decisions, call the shots, play the games he wanted to play. It was a good thing he'd become a captain at an early age; he'd always liked to be the one in command.

Picard stopped in the middle of the road and looked around. He rubbed the back of his neck, and then crossed his arms over his chest. Captains were supposed to have all the answers. But how could he? He couldn't even put all the questions he felt into words. When it came to his feelings, he was sure of nothing. Except one thing. He was afraid of Hannah Trent. He laughed aloud at the ridiculous notion. Of course, he wasn't afraid of the girl herself, but of what she represented: the life he might have had with Clarissa and the doubts he now felt. The looks she'd given him. As if there was something he knew, something he was supposed to tell her. He sighed. He wished someone would come along and tell him a thing or two.

Earlier, he and Hannah had finished their drinks in Ten Forward, and then he'd escorted her back to her quarters. Jeffrey Madison had been there.

"Hannah!" Madison exclaimed. "Where have you been?" He grabbed the girl by the shoulders. "I came back, and you weren't here."

Picard was surprised by the man's degree of concern.

Hannah wriggled free of Madison's grasp. "I was in the Ten Forward lounge with Captain Picard."

"I thought I told you not to leave the cabin." Madison's voice was stern.

Hannah lowered her eyes to the floor. "I'm sorry. I just got bored."

Madison turned to Picard. "I hope she hasn't been too much trouble, Captain."

"No, no trouble at all."

Hannah looked up at Picard, a smile of gratitude on her lips.

Madison shook his head. "I was working down in one of the engineering labs. I must have been gone too long."

Picard held up his hand. "Think nothing of it, Lieutenant."

"It's just that I have so much work to do," Madison continued, "and I wish there was something for Hannah..."

"I understand." Picard thought for a moment. "And I think I have a solution. There is an acting ensign on my crew. He's a very responsible young man. I think he would enjoy showing Hannah around the ship."

_A babysitter,_ Hannah thought staring at the captain. _A babysitter at my age._ She started to protest, but stopped. She guessed it would be better than staying in the cabin all the time.

"If it's all right, I'll ask him to come by in the morning," Picard finished.

"It sounds like a fine idea, Captain," Madison agreed.

"Hannah?" Picard looked at her inquiringly.

_Well, at least someone's asking my opinion._ "Sure," she answered. "It's all right with me."

Picard had left them then and walked straight to the holodeck, needing some time to think. He was standing alone now, in the gathering darkness. The pink sky had turned to silver grey, and a gentle breeze had begun to blow, whispering around him. If Wesley could help keep Hannah occupied for the next seven days, then perhaps Picard would be able to avoid the answers to those wordless questions.

~vVv~


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning, Picard called Wesley into his ready room and asked him to show Hannah Trent around the _Enterprise_. It was a question, but Wesley was aware of the authoritative edge in the captain's voice, thus making it more like an order. Of course, Wesley said that he would be happy to take the girl on a tour of the ship, but on his way to the visitor's quarters moments later, he silently cursed the situation.

The captain had relieved him of duty to play tour guide and nursemaid. Even as he thought this, however, he felt guilty. The girl had been through a lot in the past week. Picard had explained, rather tersely, how her mother had been one of the victims of the explosion on Temple IV. Wesley realized that what Hannah needed right now was not a tour guide, but a friend. By the time he reached her cabin, he was determined to become one.

He pushed a button next to the door which activated the chime.

"Come in," a voice responded.

Wesley stepped forward and the door slid open. He entered the cabin.

"I'll be right there." The voice came from the adjoining room on the right.

Wesley waited patiently. A minute later the girl appeared. She was older than he he'd expected. By the way Captain Picard had talked about her, he'd been expecting an eight-year-old. This girl was a teenager. Not as old as he was, but definitely not a baby.

"Hi," he smiled. "I'm Wesley Crusher."

"I'm Hannah Trent," she replied, looking at him curiously.

"Is there something wrong?" Wesley asked, noticing the confused expression on her face.

"No," Hannah answered. "It's just that you look awfully young to be an acting ensign."

Wesley should have expected her reaction. After all, it was one he got often. "I am young," he explained, "but don't think of me as an ensign. Just think of me as Wesley Crusher."

"All right, Wesley Crusher."

Wesley grinned. He had a feeling it wasn't going to be terribly difficult getting to know Hannah Trent. "Well, I'm supposed to show you around the _Enterprise_. Is there anything in particular you'd like to see?"

Hannah thought for a moment. "I'd like to see the bridge."

Wesley laughed. "You sound like me two years ago. When my mom and I first came on the ship, that's all I wanted to see."

"Well, can I?"

Wesley shook his head. "I hate to disappoint you, but no. Only authorized crew are allowed on the bridge."

"Oh." Hannah sighed. She'd wanted to go to the bridge in hopes of seeing Captain Picard again.

"Wait a minute," Wesley said.

Hannah looked at him expectantly.

"We can't go to the bridge," he continued, "but maybe we can bring the bridge to us."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on." Wesley turned and headed out the door.

Hannah followed. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Wesley answered over his shoulder.

Hannah frowned. That wasn't much of an answer.

~vVv~

In an empty engineering lab, on one of the lower decks of the _Enterprise_, Jeffrey Madison sat thinking. Everything was going to be all right, he told himself over and over, in silent, prayerful litany. Already, Hannah was beginning to improve. Only occasionally now did she call out for Clarissa in her sleep. There would always be scars, but Hannah's wounds were healing. Jeffrey Madison knew his never would.

He drummed his fingers nervously on the table top in front of him. _Oh, Clarissa._ He felt hot tears gather in his eyes, and he hastily brushed them away with the back of his hand. He leaned over the table and scribbled furiously on the note paper that was lying there. He tried desperately to concentrate on what he was writing, but he couldn't. All he could think of was Clarissa. His Clarissa.

~vVv~

Jean-Luc Picard leaned back restfully in his desk chair after Wesley Crusher had left. He breathed a long sigh of relief. _Well, that's one problem solved._ But a little voice inside his head kept whispering to him, telling him that avoiding a problem didn't necessarily solve it.

"Oh, shut up," he said aloud.

_Wonderful,_ he thought. _Now I'm talking to myself, or more accurately, I'm talking to little voices inside myself. _Maybe he did need to have a good, long talk with Deanna Troi.

He closed his eyes, only to open them at the sound of the door chime. "Come."

The door slid open. It was Beverly Crusher. She stepped inside.

Picard stood. "Well, Doctor, why am I not surprised?"

"You came to me last time," Crusher answered. "This time I came to you."

"Ah, yes. But last time you ordered..." Picard stopped and corrected himself. "You asked me to come to your office."

Crusher seated herself in the chair in front of his desk. "Are you telling me I'm not welcome?"

Picard laughed and sank back into his own chair. Lately, their conversations had a teasing quality to them, and surprisingly, he found that he enjoyed it. "You are most welcome. What can I do for you, Beverly?"

"Well, you'll be happy to know that I'm not here to examine you."

Picard shook his head. "I'm not sure if I'm relieved or disappointed."

Crusher feigned a shocked expression. "Captain!"

"I'm sorry, Doctor." He tried to keep from smiling. "I'm very glad that you're not here to examine me."

"Not now anyway," she warned, shaking her finger at him, her tone turning serious. "But I still think you look tired." Before Picard could respond, she hurried on. "I simply wanted to inform you of the results of the tests I ran on Lieutenant Madison and Hannah."

Picard had asked her to give each of them a complete physical after they'd boarded the ship. Not that he didn't trust the Chief Medical Officer on Temple IV, he just trusted Beverly Crusher far more.

"And what are those results?" Picard inquired.

"Hannah is in fine shape. Luckily, her grief over her mother hasn't manifested itself in any physical problems. Jeffrey Madison, on the other hand, is a nervous wreck. Physically, the cuts and bruises on his face are healing, but his blood pressure is high, his heart rate increased."

"Can you find a medical reason for this?"

"No. I suggested he have a talk with Deanna, but he didn't seem too interested in the idea."

Picard rubbed his hand across his chin. "You could order him to talk to the counselor," he said. "He is a Starfleet officer."

"I know," Crusher sighed, "but different people have different ways of dealing with their pain. And I really don't like to order anyone to do anything unless it's absolutely necessary." She gave him that concerned look he'd seen too often lately. "That's why I haven't ordered you to get some sleep."

"I got some sleep just last night," Picard protested.

"Apparently not enough."

Picard stood up abruptly. "You're dismissed, Doctor." His tone was clipped, but not mad. It was all part of their teasing.

Crusher stood also. "Thank you, Captain. I was on my way out anyway." She crossed to the door, but looked back at him before she left. "Jean-Luc," she said softly, "you really do need to get some more sleep. And if you'd like someone to talk to, I'm here."

Picard exhaled a deep breath. "I know. I, uh..." His voice trailed off.

"Whenever you want to," she murmured. And then she was gone, knowing that Picard would find her when he was ready.

~vVv~

Wesley Crusher led Hannah on a fast paced trek through the ship. The girl was enthralled by what she saw. She'd never imagined a starship could be so big. She soon realized it was bigger than the base back home on Temple IV. She immediately corrected that thought in her mind; Temple IV was not home anymore. Home was light years away on Dreesunus with grandparents she barely remembered. She sighed.

Wesley stopped. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," Hannah answered quickly. They were passing through an observation area and viewports arched high over their heads. Hannah looked up. "It's just so wonderful!"

Wesley's eyes followed her gaze. It _was_ wonderful. The stars were brightly colored streaks of light against the black backdrop. It had been a long time since he'd stopped at an observation viewport and really allowed himself to get lost in the vastness of space. He saw it so often on the bridge viewscreen, but here it seemed different, bigger somehow and a little bit lonely. "It's even better at impulse speed when you can see each individual star," Wesley said quietly, as if in a library or museum.

They stood there for a few more moments, and then they continued on their way. Presently they came to a large portal, and Wesley stopped. "Well, here we are."

Hannah looked around. "Where is here?"

"You'll see." Wesley reached out and pressed his fingers to a computer panel. The doors slid open in front of them, and Wesley stepped inside. "Welcome to the bridge." He swept his hand out in front of him.

Hannah took a step closer and peered through the doorway. It really was the bridge. At least it looked a little like the pictures she'd seen of starship bridges. It was bigger and nicer, but similar enough. She walked inside. "This is a holodeck."

Wesley grinned. "You know about holodecks?"

"I've read about them before, but I've never seen one." She moved down the ramp to the lower bridge. "The _Enterprise's_ bridge really looks like this?"

Wesley followed her down the ramp. "Exactly."

She went over and sat down in the center chair. "And this is where the captain sits?"

"Right," Wesley answered. "Captain Picard sits there, and Commander Riker beside him." He indicated the chair on her right. "And Counselor Troi sits in the other chair."

"What about that one?" Hannah asked, pointing to the ops station.

"Data sits there."

"And there?" It was the helm.

Wesley smiled. "That's where I sit."

Hannah stared at him. "Wait a minute. You work on the bridge?"

Wesley blushed slightly and sat down at his station. "Yeah," he admitted.

"That is so neat." Hannah was silent for a moment, thinking. "What do your parents do on the _Enterprise_?"

"My mom is the Chief Medical Officer, and..." Wesley hesitated. "And my dad died when I was real little."

"My mom died," Hannah murmured.

"I know. Captain Picard told me. I'm sorry."

Hannah didn't say anything. She drew her feet up on the edge of the chair and wrapped her arms around he legs, pulling them to her chest. She rested her chin on her knees. "What kind of man is Captain Picard?" she asked.

Wesley shrugged. "I don't really know. I mean, he's a great captain, and I respect him a lot, but... he's not an easy man to get to know." Wesley was surprised to find himself talking so freely with Hannah, but for some reason he hadn't quite figured out yet, he already felt as if he knew her. "For a long time, I was scared of him."

"Why scared?"

"Well," Wesley sighed, "Captain Picard's not supposed to like children."

Hannah tensed in her chair. "He doesn't like children?"

"I don't really think that he dislikes them, I just think they make him uncomfortable."

"Oh." Hannah hugged her knees closer to her. This wasn't exactly what she'd wanted to hear.

"But he's a good man," Wesley continued, remembering what Jack Crusher had told him. "He and my father were friends. They served together on the _Stargazer_."

Hannah's eyes brightened, and she almost told Wesley that her mother had been on the _Stargazer_, but she stopped herself. "Your dad was in Starfleet?" she asked instead.

"Yeah," Wesley replied. "First Officer." His voice lowered. "Until he died." He swallowed. "What about your dad?"

"I never knew him."

"Is he dead?"

Hannah shook her head. "I don't think so." A faraway look crept into her eyes. "I think he works on a starship."

~vVv~


	13. Chapter 13

"Knock, knock."

"Who is there?"

"Banana," Hannah said.

Data did not respond.

"Data," Wesley prompted, "you're supposed to say 'banana who?'"

"Banana who?" Data repeated.

"Knock, knock."

Data's eyes shifted from Hannah to Wesley. The boy nodded.

"Who is there?" Data queried.

"Banana," Hannah said again.

"Banana who?" Data answered slowly.

"Knock, knock."

"Who is there?"

"Orange."

Data blinked. "Is not the correct answer banana?"

"Orange," Hannah persisted.

"Orange who?" Data supplied.

"Orange you glad I didn't say banana?" Hannah and Wesley chorused. They stared at Data, awaiting his reaction.

Data looked at them quizzically. "Actually, no. I was expecting Hannah to say banana."

Wesley groaned. "Don't you get it, Data? _Orange you glad_." He emphasized the words.

Confusion flooded over Data's face. "Am I supposed to get something?"

Wesley shook his head, resignedly. "It's a joke, Data. It's a stupid joke, but it's still sort of funny."

"Funny," Data said the word as if he'd never heard it before. "That was funny." It was as if he were trying to convince himself of the fact. "Oh, yes," he said. And then he cocked his head back and laughed, or more correctly, tried to laugh. "Heh, heh, heh, heh. Heh, heh, heh, heh." The noise was grating.

"It wasn't that funny, Data," Wesley exclaimed.

Hannah just giggled. Curious stares came from all corners of Ten Forward.

Geordi LaForge appeared at the table and sat down in the empty chair. "What's going on?"

"Don't ask," Wesley warned.

"Hannah and Wesley were attempting to teach me the art of the knock-knock joke," Data supplied the information.

LaForge gulped. "I didn't know there was an art to knock-knock jokes."

"There is," Data said seriously. "A good knock-knock joke delivered in the proper manner can prove to be quite humorous."

Wesley grinned. That was his line. He'd given it to Data fifteen minutes earlier.

LaForge nodded absently. "Sounds interesting."

"It is. The telling of knock-knock jokes is a time-worn tradition dating back to the early 1900s."

Hannah was still giggling, and Wesley was trying, unsuccessfully, to stifle his own laughter. LaForge frowned at them somewhat accusingly.

Wesley stood up. "Uh, we have to go." He pulled on Hannah's arm.

"Yeah," she agreed, standing up. "It was nice talking to you." Wesley tugged her arm again, and she followed him.

As they were walking out of the lounge, they could hear Data continuing his discourse on knock-knock jokes.

"For a long time, they were regarded as merely children's jokes, but they soon attained popularity with adults as well. The humor lies in the proper delivery of the lines. The opening statement is 'Knock-knock.' To which one replies, 'Who is there?' The next line depends upon the particular joke being told. There are a vast number of-"

LaForge held up his hand. "Data. I hate to break this to you, but there is no 'art' to telling a knock-knock joke. A three-year-old can tell a knock-knock joke. And, well... they were never really popular with adult audiences. If you tell too many of them, it starts to get a little... annoying."

Data was silent for a few moments, his head tilted in confusion. "Geordi?" he finally asked. "Why would Hannah and Wesley tell me things that were not true?"

LaForge sighed. "They were teasing with you Data. Just... joking around."

"Why?"

"Because," LaForge bent his head so that Data would not see him smiling, "because it was... funny."

Data was perplexed. He did not know whether to laugh or not.

~vVv~

The two teenagers tumbled out of Ten Forward, both laughing so hard tears were gathering in their eyes. Hannah collapsed against the wall, and Wesley leaned against the opposite one.

It felt good to laugh. Hannah had not done so since her mother died. But with the thought of Clarissa, the tears in Hannah's eyes threatened to spill over onto her cheeks. She reached up and wiped them away. Across from her, Wesley was struggling to catch his breath.

Hannah felt guilty. Suddenly, it felt wrong to laugh. When Commander Featherstone had told her about her mother, Hannah's world had come crashing down around her. Even Jeffrey Madison, distraught over Clarissa's death, had not been there for the girl.

Those first few days, Hannah had sat alone in her room. Not crying. Not allowing herself. Just sitting. Margaret Featherstone had come and prepared meals for them, but neither she nor Madison ate. All he did was sleep. Sleep, Hannah knew, induced by drugs. It wasn't fair, she'd thought at the time. It wasn't fair that she had to remember, and feel the pain, and he could choose not to. She'd hated him for that. That wasn't what fathers were supposed to do. Of course, Jeffrey Madison wasn't her father, but he was the closest thing to one. Or so she'd thought, until that moment when she'd needed him most of all, and he had not been there.

In the dark of her room, realizing for the first time that she was alone, she'd found herself thinking more and more of her real father. She knew who he was. Not by name. Clarissa had never told her that. But she'd told her the stories, and Hannah had known that someday the stories would help her find him.

"Hannah?" Wesley's voice broke into her thoughts. "Let's go down to the gym and go swimming. All right?"

"Sure," she answered, pushing the painful memories away.

They headed off down the corridor. In just the past three days, Hannah and Wesley had become close friends. Maybe it was because they had so much in common. Wesley understood what it was like to lose a parent, and he also knew the pain of not having really known his father. He was easy to talk to, and Hannah appreciated his company. He'd also introduced her to some of the other kids on the _Enterprise_, and she'd gone to a couple of their classes with them. But she really preferred to spend most of her time with Wesley. She felt comfortable with him, and his friends: Geordi LaForge, Data, even Worf. Like Wesley, she'd always been more at ease around adults.

She saw Commander Riker and Counselor Troi walking toward them, and they all smiled and greeted one another as they passed. Once the adults were out of hearing range, Wesley leaned his head over to Hannah's. "I think there's still something going on between them." He'd already told her all the shipboard gossip. Hannah glanced over her shoulder just as Riker and Troi disappeared into Ten Forward.

"Hannah!"

She swung her head back around. Jeffrey Madison was standing in front of her. She gasped. "You scared me."

"I want you to go back to the cabin right now." His words were thick and slurred.

Hannah tensed. He was drunk. She could even smell the liquor on his breath. "Jeffrey." She tried to stay calm. "I think you need to go back to the cabin."

"Don't you tell me what I need," he bellowed loudly.

Hannah took a step back. She'd never seen him drunk, at least not like this. Not this bad. He frightened her.

"Lieutenant Madison," Wesley started, even though the man was out of uniform, and not at all presenting himself like a Starfleet officer.

"You got something to say to me?" Madison looked hard at him.

Wesley swallowed and looked around the corridor, wishing another crew member would come along. His wish was answered. The doors to Ten Forward slid open, and Will Riker stepped out.

The First Officer noticed the trio and, realizing something was wrong, he strode over to them. "Is there a problem here?" He addressed the question to the lieutenant. The man seemed to shrink under Riker's gaze.

Hannah did not know why, but she suddenly felt protective of Jeffrey Madison, as if she had to stand up for him despite the situation. "No, sir," she answered. "There's no problem." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wesley's startled reaction.

Riker looked at the girl. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Sir..." Wesley started to protest, but then he saw the pleading look in Hannah's eyes.

Riker gazed at Wesley expectantly. "Yes, Ensign?" he inquired

"Nothing, sir."

"I'm sorry, Commander Riker," Madison said, forcing himself to speak clearly. "I wanted Hannah to return to the cabin, and I'm afraid we had a slight disagreement."

He seemed almost sober now, and Wesley was amazed. He was like an actor, changing his performance at will.

Madison looked at Hannah. "You go along with Wesley then, and just be sure to be back in time for dinner." With that said, he turned and walked away.

When he was out of sight, Hannah breathed a sigh of relief.

Riker looked down at her. "Hannah?" There was concern in the first officer's voice.

"I'm sorry about that."

Wesley stared at her, wide-eyed. "It wasn't your fault," he exclaimed.

Hannah felt her cheeks growing hot. "He's really not like that," she tried to explain. "It's just that... ever since my mom... I'm sorry, I gotta go." She walked quickly away.

Wesley started to follow. Riker touched his shoulder. "You stay with her, Wes."

"I will," he said, then hurried to catch up with Hannah.

"He'll sleep it off," she mumbled. "He always does."

"Does he do that a lot?"

"What? Get drunk?"

Wesley nodded.

"No," Hannah answered. "He never used to at all. And then, I don't know, for about a year now... sometimes. And since Mom..."

They passed by a small recreation lounge. There were just a few people there playing a quiet game of cards.

"You wanna sit and talk?" Wesley asked.

"Yeah. I guess."

They went in and sat in a corner next to the tall viewports. Hannah sat with her back to them. All that dark space made her feel small, and she already felt small enough.

She looked over at Wesley, seated in the chair beside her. She owed him an explanation. She lowered her eyes. "When I was real little, not having a father never bothered me, because I didn't know what I was missing. I mean, I used to wonder who he was, and where he was, but not knowing didn't hurt. When we moved to Temple Four, and my mom started seeing Jeffrey, I didn't know what to expect. I thought maybe he would just _act_ like he liked me because he liked my mom. But we became friends. And after a while, I started thinking of him as sort of a step-father." Hannah shook her head slowly. "But ever since Mom died, he just hasn't been the same. I know he's sad, but..." She felt the tears in her eyes again, and she fought them back. "Sometimes I feel like he blames me for what happened."

"Oh, no, Hannah," Wesley said. "I'm sure he doesn't. How could he?"

"It's just the way he looks at me. I mean, I know I must remind him of my mother, and I love him, Wes, but... It's not fair. I'm doing my best to handle this, and he's not." She sighed. "I don't like being around him anymore."

"I'm sorry, Hannah."

She bit her lip. "I am, too. Sometimes, I wish I could just go somewhere and pretend none of this has happened. I know that sounds babyish," she paused, "but that's what I wish."

Wesley thought for a few moments. "I think I know of a place that you might like."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Come on."

Wesley had decided that he would take her to the park. He'd adjust the program so that Jack Crusher wouldn't be there, even though Wesley wished he could be. Maybe another day he'd explain it all to Hannah, and then perhaps he could share his father with her.

They arrived at the holodeck just as the portal slid open. Jean-Luc Picard emerged, dressed in riding gear.

Wesley straightened. "Captain Picard."

"Ensign. Hannah." The captain nodded.

"Did you enjoy your ride, sir?" Wesley asked.

"Yes. Thank you."

Hannah stared at the captain. He looked like a knight in shining armor. The one in her mom's stories. She glanced away. Maybe she was wrong. If he was the one, surely he would have said something.

Picard felt Hannah's sudden coolness toward him. He cleared his throat. "Have a nice time on the holodeck," he said, then turned and left.

Hannah watched him go. And Wesley watched her watching him.

~vVv~


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the feedback. I appreciate both positive reviews and constructive critiques.

As soon as the door to his cabin slid closed, Picard shed his riding clothes; he pulled off the leather boots, the breeches, the dove-colored sweater. He allowed them to remain where they'd fallen, in a line from the door to the bathroom. He stepped into the shower. Hot needles of water hit his back, then his face and chest. He ran his hand over the aching muscles in his neck and shoulders.

He'd ridden for almost an hour through the trees and across the meadows, hoping the ride would relax him. But despite the beauty of the countryside, his mind could not turn away from the confusing emotions inside him: doubts, fears, uncertainties. There was something wrong that desperately needed to be set right. Something about Hannah. He'd realized that as soon as he'd stepped out of the holodeck and found her standing there with Wesley.

There was something about the girl. It was more than her reminding him of Clarissa. It was the way she looked at him. Or more precisely, through him. And then she'd looked away. Was it hurt or bitterness he'd seen in her eyes? Whatever it was, it had unsettled him. He felt as if he owed Hannah something, but he did not know what. He'd answered her questions, even admitted that he'd loved Clarissa. What more could she possibly want?

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. The water bathed his face and ran down his neck. He suddenly felt very tired and old. Not even a hot shower helped. He turned off the water and stepped out. Still dripping wet, he padded naked into the bedroom and stretched out on the bed. The air in the cabin was warm, and it made him drowsier. Sleep came almost immediately. No dreams, nothing. Just cool, dark sleep that lasted approximately twenty minutes.

"Captain?" Will Riker's voice broke the silence of the cabin.

Picard came instantly awake. "Yes, Number One?" He propped himself up on his elbows.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir."

"That's quite all right."

"There's something I need to discuss with you."

Riker's voice wasn't urgent, but Picard sensed it was important. "My ready room. Fifteen minutes," he responded.

"Thank you, sir."

Picard rolled up off the bed and stretched. He pulled on a clean uniform, absently fingering the four command buttons at the neckline. They were just small, metallic disks, but they added a great deal of extra weight to his aching shoulders.

~vVv~

"And you asked Doctor Crusher to look in on him?" Picard stared across the desk at his first officer. Will Riker had just informed him of his encounter with Jeffrey Madison.

"Yes," Riker answered. "I sent a security officer with her."

"Security?" Picard arched his eyebrows. "Was he violent?"

"No, sir. Just loud."

"And drunk." Picard leaned back in his chair and shook his head. "And Hannah was embarrassed?"

"Yes. And concerned."

"Just one more thing for her to have to deal with," Picard grimaced. "I'll be glad when we arrive at Dreesunus. She'll be much better off with her grandparents."

"And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime," Picard drummed his fingers on the desktop, "we keep an eye on Lieutenant Madison."

Riker nodded in agreement, and then said, "Wesley's been a good companion for Hannah."

Picard pursed his lips. "I suppose."

"You have misgivings about their friendship?"

"Oh, no, not at all," Picard replied. "I'm just a little surprised, what with the difference in their ages."

Riker shook his head. "I wasn't aware there was much of a difference."

Picard heard him, but did not respond. He gazed out the viewport, thinking instead of Hannah, and the way she'd made him feel outside the holodeck.

"Captain?"

He glanced back at Riker. "Number One, I trust you'll keep me apprised of the situation with Lieutenant Madison."

"Of course, sir."

"Thank you." There was a look of dismissal in the captain's eyes.

Riker stood. "I'll be on the bridge, sir."

He left the ready room, the door sliding closed behind him. He walked across the bridge to the center command chair and settled himself into it.

A few minutes later, Picard emerged. And after a brief, cursory look around the bridge, he disappeared into the turbolift.

~vVv~

There were a half-a-dozen questions swimming around in Picard's head when he entered Ten Forward. He was hoping that Guinan could help him find some of the answers. He walked over and sat down at the end of the bar. He didn't even bother to look around and see how many people were there. It really didn't matter. Not now.

"Can I offer you a cup of tea, Captain?"

Picard looked up. Guinan stood there smiling at him. He hesitated for a moment, considered asking for something stronger, but decided against it. "Tea would be nice, thank you."

Guinan returned in a few seconds with tea for both of them. She walked around the bar and sat down next to the captain. Picard cradled the cup in his hands. It was hot against his palms.

Next to him, Guinan quietly waited. Picard had come to talk. She would give him time, and let him begin when he was ready.

He took a long sip of tea, allowing the warmth to spread through his chest. The rest of his body felt cold. He breathed deeply. "I accessed Hannah Trent's medical file through the computer." His voice was low. "Did you know that she has a birthday next month? She's going to be fifteen."

"I know."

"I thought she was only twelve."

"She looks young for her age."

"There is something about her..." Picard murmured.

"Yes, there is," Guinan agreed.

"And there's also something you're not telling me." He directed his gaze at her, intense, questioning. "Guinan?"

"Hannah is your daughter," she said simply.

"My daughter?" His voice trembled.

"That something you see in her, Jean-Luc, is yourself."

"No... I don't-"

"Believe it?" Guinan finished his thought. "I would never lie to you."

"I know, it's just... Why didn't Clarissa tell me?"

"Perhaps she tried."

"She never..." He suddenly remembered a long ago conversation. He and Clarissa had been alone in an empty observation lounge on the _Stargazer_. His first officer, Jack Crusher, had just left. He'd received a communication tape from Beverly, and he'd been telling them stories about his eight-month-old son, Wesley. Picard had listened politely, but stories about children had never interested him all that much. After Crusher was gone, Clarissa had turned hesitantly toward him.

_"What do you think about children, Jean-Luc?"_

_"Oh, they're fine, I suppose. As long as they're someone else's." He smiled and drew her into his arms, brushed his lips across her forehead._

_But she pulled back and looked at him. "Don't you want children of your own?" Clarissa's eyes were serious._

_Picard swallowed. They'd never talked about children before. The subject had never come up. He was a starship captain. The idea of having a family of his own was foreign. A wife, perhaps, someday. But children? He shook his head slowly. "Starship captains don't have children, Clarissa."_

_"Some do."_

_"But not me." He let go of her and turned away. "Fathers belong at home, and I belong out there." He stared at the black void of space on the other side of the viewport. He felt Clarissa's hand on his back._

_"That's too bad. You would have made a wonderful father, Jean-Luc."_

They never spoke of children again. Thinking back, Picard realized that that moment on the observation lounge had been the beginning of the end. Not long afterwards, Clarissa had left the ship.

Picard rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Yes, Guinan. She did try to tell me. But I wasn't listening." He looked over at the woman next to him. "But you knew, all these years." The tone of his voice was not accusing, but simply factual.

"Yes. Clarissa asked me not to tell you. But I think she'd want you to know now."

"Thank you, Guinan." Picard finished his tea in one long sip and set the empty cup on the bar. "A knight in shining armor," he mumbled.

"What was that?" Guinan asked.

"A fairytale Clarissa used to tell Hannah." He hesitated. "A fairytale that... has come true." Picard fell silent.

But Guinan had a feeling that there was a lot more to talk about. "Another cup of tea, Captain?"

"Please."

~vVv~


	15. Chapter 15

Hannah had never seen anything like Golden Gate Park. She'd spent all of her life on little out-of-the-way, desolate planets, like Temple IV. To see the sun through a clear, dust-free sky was almost as beautiful as seeing deep space through the viewports. She stood on the bluff overlooking San Francisco Bay for a long time. Wesley stood with her.

"Do you come here often?" she asked, watching as a seagull spiraled down over the water.

Wesley nodded. "Lately I've come here a lot." He sank down on the grass. Hannah sat beside him. "When I was little, my mother took me to the real Golden Gate Park."

Hannah ran her fingers through the clover next to her leg. She was silent for a few moments. "Wes," she finally said, her voice so low it was almost a whisper, "what do you remember about your father?"

"Not much. He was just this tall man who smiled a lot." Wesley wanted to tell her about the Jack Crusher he'd since come to know, but he didn't.

"You're lucky, though. That you remember him at all. That you knew him, and he knew you. I'll never know my father."

"Your mom never told you who he was?" Wesley asked gently.

Hannah shook her head. "She never told me his name. I used to think that someday he'd find me. But now, I don't think he's even looking."

Hannah's eyes were glistening, and Wesley saw a tear roll off her cheek. He was sure now. He'd bring her back tomorrow and introduce her to Jack Crusher.

~vVv~

Picard spent a restless night, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. He didn't think Hannah knew who he was, but she suspected. That's why she looked at him the way she did.

He debated with himself whether or not to tell her. Surely, if Clarissa had wanted her to know, she would have told her long ago. But Clarissa was gone now, and that changed things.

Finally, after lying awake for hours, Picard fell into a fitful sleep. He dreamed that Clarissa was holding him. It was a simple dream, but like the dreams he'd had a week ago, there was a threatening feel to it, despite Clarissa's warm embrace.

Picard awakened in a cold sweat. It was morning, the ship's simulated morning. He pulled himself out of bed and slipped into a short robe. Then he walked through the next room to the food dispenser. "Tea, Earl Grey, hot," he mumbled, "and a croissant."

The food appeared, and he picked it up and carried it over to his desk. Sitting down, he glanced at the chronometer. He had almost an hour before he had to be on the bridge. He touched a button on the desktop, and music filled the room. Instrumental, soft, soothing. A thought struck him, a silly sentimental thought. This was his first official morning as a father.

~vVv~

Will Riker mopped up the last of his eggs with a piece of toast, stuffed it in his mouth, and swallowed. He looked up to find Deanna Troi staring at him, an amused smile on her face. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"You."

"Why?" He glanced at his empty plate. "Because I'm hungry."

"No." She tilted her head at him. "Because you always do everything with such a single-minded devotion. Even eating breakfast."

Riker shrugged. "Most important meal of the day." He eyed her full plate of food. "Of which you haven't partaken much."

She slid the plate away from her. "I'm not hungry. Would you care for some of it?"

He smiled and reached for the plate. "I thought you'd never ask."

Troi laughed.

"Do I amuse you?" An egg laden fork was poised an inch from his mouth.

"Yes," she answered.

Riker set his fork down. "We should eat breakfast together more often." He looked around the Ten Forward lounge. "Perhaps somewhere more private."

"Or maybe dinner," she suggested.

"A midnight snack." He leaned across the table, his hand reaching out to touch hers.

"Commander Riker?"

He closed his eyes momentarily and leaned back in his chair. He touched his communicator. "Riker here."

"Commander." The voice belonged to Worf. "We're receiving a coded message from Temple Four."

"Have you notified the captain?"

"Yes, sir. He's on his way to the bridge."

"So am I, Lieutenant." Riker was out the door in an instant, Troi right behind him.

~vVv~

Riker and Troi walked off the turbolift onto the bridge and straight into Picard's ready room. The captain was propped against the edge of his desk, his arms crossed in front of him. The look on his face was grim.

"Captain?"

"Number One, Counselor. Have a seat."

They both sat down in the chairs in front of the desk.

"Schaeffer Featherstone has contacted me," Picard began. "It seems that Kieran Mackintosh briefly regained consciousness and denied accusations of attacking Lieutenant Madison. He claims that it was Madison who instigated the attack upon him."

"Was that all he said?" Riker inquired.

"Yes. Unfortunately, he slipped back into a coma before he was able to elaborate any further. But this leaves us with some troubling questions. If Mackintosh is telling the truth, then Lieutenant Madison is not."

"Perhaps we should have a talk with Madison," Riker suggested.

"I think so," Picard agreed. "And, Counselor, I'd like you to accompany us."

"Security, sir?" Riker queried, remembering the state in which he'd last seen Madison.

"Not yet. I don't want to alarm the lieutenant." _Or Hannah,_ he thought to himself. What in the devil would they do with Hannah during their conversation with Madison?

~vVv~


	16. Chapter 16

Picard need not have worried about what to do with Hannah, for when he and Riker and Troi arrived at the guest quarters, the girl was not there. A groggy, bleary-eyed Madison admitted them.

"Captain." There was a worried, apprehensive tone in his voice.

"Lieutenant Madison. I'm sorry to disturb you, but we need to talk."

"Of course." Madison stared at Picard, unmoving.

"Why don't we all sit down?" Troi suggested.

They moved over to the sofa and chairs and sat. Troi studied Madison with a practiced eye. He was perched on the edge of the sofa. His hands were trembling and he clasped them together and stuck them between his knees. She sensed nervousness and fear. And guilt. Overwhelming, painful guilt.

"Lieutenant Madison," Picard began. He was seated in a chair opposite the man, a low coffee table separating them. "We've received subsequent information from Temple Four concerning Ensign Mackintosh's condition."

Madison's eyes flashed, but he remained silent.

"He regained consciousness long enough to answer some questions concerning the incident in your office," Picard continued.

Madison licked his lips. "I take it his version was different that mine?"

"Why should it be different?" Riker questioned.

Madison shifted his eyes from the captain to the first officer. He answered coolly. "If his version corroborated mine, there would be no reason for the three of you to be here right now." He looked back at Picard. "Am I right, Captain?"

"Yes, Lieutenant, you are correct. Ensign Mackintosh denies attacking you."

Madison snorted derisively. "Did you really expect him to admit to it?"

The man was changing his tune, Picard noticed. Gone was the concern he'd expressed in Temple IV's sickbay. Nor was there any evident relief over the fact that Mackintosh was still alive.

"I think we need to hear your version once more," Picard instructed.

"All right," Madison sighed. "I was alone in my office, working."

"On what?" Riker interjected.

"Geo-chemical variance reports. I do them daily."

Riker nodded. "Continue."

"The door was closed, but not locked. So when it opened, I looked up, and there was Kieran."

"How did he act?" Picard asked.

Madison's body shifted slightly. "At first, he seemed normal enough. Said he came by to see why I was working so late."

"Why were you working so late?" Riker interrupted again.

Madison looked at him wearily. "I hadn't planned to. But, Hannah was eating dinner with the Featherstones, and I remembered that I hadn't gotten around to the variance reports."

"Why hadn't you? I thought you did them daily."

Madison stared hard at Riker. "Ever since... the accident," he answered haltingly, "my work schedule hadn't been regular."

The hurt look on Madison's face was very real, and Picard cut his eyes toward Riker, silencing any further questions. "Go ahead, Mister Madison," the captain said, sensing what the man was feeling. Picard felt it, too. Despite his efforts to regulate his own emotions, the grief he felt over Clarissa's death still lingered just beneath the thin facade of his control. Yet, he admitted to himself, what Madison felt was probably far worse. After all, it had been fifteen years since Picard had last seen Clarissa, and the man sitting across from him had seen her just last week - alive, smiling, laughing. Picard sighed. Fifteen years since he'd loved her, touched her. He blinked, jolted back to his present surroundings by Madison's voice.

"Kieran was standing in front of my desk, and he leaned over and... um..." Madison hesitated, "he..."

"He what?" Riker prodded.

"He, uh, well, this wild look came into his eyes, and he started talking about Clarissa."

Picard winced at the mention of her name.

Madison continued. "He said that..." He looked away from Picard, to his left, but Riker was there, staring intently at him. He looked to his right; Troi looked back. He opted for the floor, casting his eyes downward. A hard, bitter edge crept into his already tense voice. "He said I should have been the one to die, not Clarissa..."

"What did he mean by that? Were you supposed to have been in the lab that night?" Picard inquired.

"No. No one was supposed to have been there. No one." Madison shook his head, his voice choked.

"If no one was supposed to have been there, how come five people were?" This from Riker, whose own voice was laced with impatience.

"She called a meeting," Madison said simply, almost coldly. "A last minute meeting." His voice broke. "I was on my way there when it happened." He lowered his head and covered his face with his hands. "If only..."

Picard stiffened in his chair. How often had he thought the very same thing in the past few days? _If only... If only she hadn't been there on Temple IV. If only she'd told me about Hannah. If only she'd stayed on the_ Stargazer. _If only she'd married me. If only I'd asked her._ He rubbed his hand across his forehead. "So, you must have been one of the first ones there after..."

"Yes. I... I couldn't do anything. There was fire... everywhere..."

"I know." Picard's voice was controlled even though he remembered all too well the details of the explosion. Late that same night he'd first met Hannah, Schaeffer Featherstone had told him in a small, out-of-the-way bar on Temple IV. He mentally shook of the memory.

"Getting back to the incident in your office, why would Mackintosh want you dead?" Riker asked.

"Meaning why would he attack me? Or why did he set up the explosion?" Madison replied.

"You believe he caused the explosion?" Troi tried to look directly in Madison's eyes, but he kept his head bent.

"Yes," he murmured.

"Why?" she asked.

There was a long silence. So long it was uncomfortable. Troi allowed it to build.

Finally, Madison spoke. "Kieran was jealous of my relationship with Clarissa."

"Jealous enough to want to kill you?" Riker queried.

"Apparently so," Madison answered gruffly. "Jealous of us and the work we'd been accomplishing."

"So you think he blew up the lab to destroy the project you were working on?"

"Yes. And people being there was just an accident." Madison hung his head again. "Please, I don't know what Kieran said, but don't make me talk about this anymore."

Picard glanced at Troi and nodded. He agreed. They were here to discuss what had happened in Madison's office, not what had happened to Clarissa. Unfortunately, he realized grimly, the two incidents were interwoven.

Troi acknowledged the captain's nod and proceeded with the questioning. "We understand that all of this is very painful for you. But we still need to know exactly what happened in your office that night."

Madison sighed and squeezed his eyes closed for a few moments. Then he opened them and continued. "Kieran was standing in front of my desk. He was very upset. I got up and walked around to him, and that's when he pushed me."

"And you pushed him back," Riker said.

"No. Not at first."

"You didn't defend yourself?"

"Commander Riker, regardless of what you might think, I am not a violent man. I realized that what Kieran needed was help, not hostility. I tried to talk to him. It did no good. He was like... a mad man, repeating over and over that it should have been me." Madison stood and walked to the other side of the room, his back to them. "It should have been me," he mumbled. _How long,_ he wondered, _how long can I keep this up?_ Pretending it had been Mackintosh, blaming him for his own horrible mistake. He shuddered. He felt tired, so very tired.

"Jeffrey." The voice just behind him was soft and gentle. And it reminded him of Clarissa.

He felt tears welling up in his eyes. "It should have been me," he said again.

"Why?" Troi questioned.

"It just should have been." Madison's tone was suddenly harsh and loud, threatening. It was too much, all too much. And he felt trapped.

Riker stood and crossed over next to Troi. "Lieutenant, I think you need-" he began.

Madison cut him off. "Leave me alone," he shouted. He swung around and his left fist caught Riker on the jaw, surprising the first officer, and throwing him off balance. Riker staggered back a step, and Troi reached out for his arm.

Picard was immediately on his feet. "Security. Guest Quarters Seven."

Riker pulled free of Troi's grasp and lunged at Madison, but the man was prepared for him. He swung again and knocked Riker off his feet, sending him down into the glass topped table beside them. Riker's head hit it hard, and it shattered in long shards.

"Will!" Troi knelt beside him.

"Madison, stop!" Picard ordered, stepping in front of him.

There was a wild look in Madison's eyes, like a cornered animal. But instead of directing his blows at Picard, he pushed past him and fled out the door. Picard started after him. Worf appeared in the doorway.

"It's Madison." Picard nodded in the direction of the man's retreat. "That way."

Worf, followed by two security officers, headed off down the corridor.

Picard turned back to Riker and Troi. "Medical team to Guest Quarters Seven." He knelt down next to the two of them. Troi was cradling Riker's head in her lap. His ear was bleeding and she held her hand pressed against it. "Deanna?" Picard inquired.

"I don't think it's bad, Captain."

Picard sighed and glanced back over his shoulder at the doorway.

"Worf will find him," Troi assured.

"Yes," Picard nodded, "I'm sure he will."

"I sensed a great deal of guilt from Madison."

"So did I," he agreed, still staring in the direction of the open door.

"Unfortunately, I can't be any more specific than that," she added.

Picard frowned. "We'll find out what's going on with him eventually, I hope."

Riker's head moved slightly on Troi's lap, and his eyes fluttered open.

"Don't move, Will," she reassured him. "A medical team's on its way."

"Madison?" Riker asked, glancing up at the captain.

"Worf and Security are looking for him. They'll find him."

Riker sighed. "Sorry about this, sir."

"No apologies, Number One. But this makes two glass tables you've broken, doesn't it?" Picard smiled wryly.

"Yes, sir. It makes me two for two." He tried to sit up, but Troi held him firmly.

Just then the medical team came through the door. Picard stood back and allowed them to move Riker onto an anti-grav stretcher.

"Really, this isn't necessary," the first officer protested.

"Why don't we let Doctor Crusher decide what's necessary," Troi suggested.

"Captain..." Riker started.

Picard shook his head. "Sorry, Will. You break a table, you go to Sickbay."

~vVv~

That morning, Hannah had awakened very early. She'd dressed quickly in the half light of her room, and then snuck quietly through the cabin. Madison, who'd fallen asleep on the sofa late the night before, was still there. Hannah was careful not to wake him. She wasn't doing anything wrong, just going to meet Wesley for breakfast, but she didn't want to have to explain it to Madison. Lately, she hadn't wanted to talk to him at all. Ever since the incident in the corridor outside Ten Forward, Hannah had felt very uncomfortable even being around the man, let alone actually talking with him.

So many things had changed because of her mother's death. And even though she wanted her relationship with Madison to stay the same, it was quickly slipping away. And it seemed like nothing she said or did could stop it.

Hannah missed the old Jeffrey Madison. Before, he used to laugh a lot. Of course, she understood why he didn't laugh now. But he didn't even smile. It was like the best part of him had died with her mother.

They never had real conversations anymore. Not like they used to. There had been a time when they'd talked for hours about anything and everything. It was Madison who'd given her the proverbial parental advice before her first date six months earlier. And Madison who'd given her the 'life goes on' pep talk when the boy never asked her out again. Jeffrey Madison had been a friend once, and now... Hannah knew that the man asleep in the middle of the guest quarters was a stranger to her, and she knew that he would remain so. At the door, she looked back and silently let him go. Her grandparents were waiting for her on Dreesunus, but she never wanted to hold onto someone ever again.

She slipped out the door into the passageway and squinted from the light. It was early morning on the starship, and although the corridor lights were dimmed during the _Enterprise's_ night, they were up now, like simulated dawn, even brighter than Temple IV's hazy sunrise.

She was going to meet Wesley for breakfast. They'd planned it the day before. He had something he wanted to tell her. Something important. It was strange how she and Wesley Crusher had gotten to be such good friends in so short a time. She'd shared things with him that she'd never told any other friend. Not even Taylor Featherstone, and she'd known him for almost four years.

Wesley was different. But as Hannah neared the crew lounge where she was to meet him, she realized that she was different now. She'd changed in many ways. She felt older. And stronger. There was a certain strength that came from being alone.

Moments later, Hannah was seated across from Wesley at a table in the corner of the lounge.

"I know we're supposed to be meeting for breakfast, but I'm not really hungry, are you?" Wesley asked.

"No, not really," Hannah answered in all honesty. Lately, she hadn't had any appetite. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

Wesley licked his lips and hesitated for a moment. He took a deep breath. "My dad died when I was almost five. All I can remember is Captain Picard coming to tell us what happened. And then my mom trying to explain it to me. I don't think I really understood what death meant, I just remember her saying that he was never coming back. For a long time, I just thought of him being off somewhere, like still on the _Stargazer_, doing what he always did, but just not coming home anymore. I think I was eight before I realized he was gone forever. Anyway, about four months ago I got this idea. You know how you can create almost anything on the holodeck?"

Hannah nodded.

"Well, I took all the information I knew about my father, and I sort of..."

Her eyes widened. "You mean..."

"Yeah," Wesley said quietly. "I sort of created my dad on the holodeck."

"And it worked?"

"Almost too well." Wesley shook his head. "It's really weird. He looks like my father, and he sounds like him..."

"But Wesley," Hannah interrupted, "he's not your father. Not really."

"I know that. But he seems so real. And at first, I was a little scared because he did. But now, I don't even think about it, I just..."

"You just pretend," Hannah finished his sentence for him.

"Yeah," Wesley sighed. "Pretty silly, huh?"

"No," she answered quietly. "I think I understand. Yesterday when I said I wished I could just go somewhere. That's what you did."

"You could go there, too, if you want."

"To meet your dad?" Hannah asked slowly.

"Why not?" Wesley grinned.

Hannah thought for a moment. "Yeah," she said, "why not?"

~vVv~

Hannah watched as Wesley keyed the program into the holodeck's control panel. She'd decided that this was exactly what she needed. A chance to walk into a fairytale and forget reality for a while. Although it was someone else's fairytale, it was an escape all the same. She glanced over at Wesley. He smiled at her assuringly and activated the final button. The portal slid open before them, and just as Hannah glimpsed the first green of the park, she heard footsteps behind her, pounding, running. She turned and saw Madison coming towards them.

"Jeffrey!" she gasped as he grabbed her elbow and pulled her forward.

"Hey!" Wesley exclaimed as the man grabbed his arm also.

There were other footsteps behind them, and Wesley strained to look back over his shoulder. He saw Worf and two other security guards run up just as the holodeck doors slid closed.

~vVv~

Despite his many objections, the medical team was pushing the anti-grav stretcher that carried Will Riker out the door when the captain's communicator sounded.

He tapped it. "Picard here."

"Captain." It was Worf's voice.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"My team and I are outside Holodeck Three. Lieutenant Madison is inside."

"Good. Proceed with caution."

"There are a few problems, sir."

"Problems?"

"He's taken hostages. Ensign Crusher and Hannah Trent were preparing to enter the holodeck when Lieutenant Madison ran past. He pulled them in with him."

Picard placed a hand against the cabin wall and leaned heavily against it. Troi left Riker's side, motioning the medical team to leave without her. She went and stood close to Picard.

"So far," Worf continued, "we've been unable to open the doors to the holodeck."

"I'm on my way, Lieutenant," Picard responded. He glanced at Troi. "You go with Will."

"Captain?"

"I'm all right, Deanna." He strode out of the cabin before she had a chance to protest.

~vVv~


	17. Chapter 17

Picard paced back and forth in front of the holodeck entrance, growing more worried and impatient by the minute. Almost half an hour had passed and still they were unable to gain access. LaForge knelt beside the door, a wall panel open in front of him. He was carefully checking minute circuitry.

"Well?" Picard demanded, stopping in mid-stride.

"I can't find any reason why it shouldn't open."

"How do you suggest we get in there?" Picard questioned hotly.

"Captain, I-" LaForge began.

"We could phaser through," Worf spoke up. He and his men were standing against the opposite wall.

"Too risky," LaForge answered. "It's got to open on its own. If we force it in any way..." He looked up at the captain.

"Agreed," Picard said heavily. "Continue as you think best, Mister LaForge."

The Chief Engineer bent back to his work, and Picard resumed his pacing. He couldn't remember when he'd ever felt so helpless, so utterly inefficient and unproductive. And so terrifyingly scared. In the last thirty minutes he'd pieced things together in his mind. Jeffrey Madison, somehow, in some way, was responsible for Clarissa's death. And now, he was locked inside a holodeck with her child. _My child._

"Captain?"

He jumped slightly, and then coughed to hide his reaction. He turned. "Counselor." His voice was firm. "I thought I gave you a direct order to go with Commander Riker to Sickbay."

"I did, sir," Troi replied crisply. "You didn't say how long I was to remain there."

Picard's features softened, and a tired smiled pulled at the corners of his lips. "No, I suppose I didn't. How's Will?"

"He's going to be fine. Beverly says it's just a slight concussion."

Picard sighed. "That's good." He gestured toward LaForge. "We're having some trouble getting in here."

"Yes, sir," Troi said quietly. "Perhaps I could keep you company until you do."

"I'd appreciate that," Picard said, welcoming her steady, calming presence.

~vVv~

Hannah struggled against Madison's grasp as the holodeck doors closed behind them. His hand was tight on her elbow, so much so that it was painful. "Jeffrey, let me go!" she demanded.

Without responding, Madison pulled the two teenagers across the sunlit park. Wesley, realizing he wasn't able to break away from the man, had stopped trying, and was now allowing himself to be pulled. His eyes searched the park, looking for his father.

They reached the trees where the stone bench stood, and Madison pushed them roughly to the ground. They fell together at the base of the tree. Wesley glanced over at Hannah. She was staring up at Madison, her eyes wide.

"I... I have to talk to you, Hannah." The man's voice was ragged, pleading. He sat down on the bench facing them, and Hannah gasped when he pulled a knife from his shirt pocket. "No," he said quietly, "I'm not going to hurt you. But you can't leave until I explain."

"Explain what?" Hannah managed, her voice shaking slightly.

"It was an accident," he began. "The explosion."

Wesley felt Hannah stiffen beside him.

"We'd been working forever on the project," Madison continued. "Twenty-four hours a day it seemed. Clarissa was so involved, so... dedicated. And all the discoveries were hers, all the breakthroughs. She was the brains behind it all. And I came to feel that I was contributing very little. I don't know if you'll understand this, but some people find it difficult to love someone who's smarter than they are." His eyes clouded over and filled with tears. "But I did love your mother. I loved her very much. And I never wanted to lose her. But as the project progressed, there was talk of Clarissa receiving awards for her work, high acclaims that would have taken the both of you back to Earth. Away from me." He hesitated, swallowing deeply. "And I couldn't let that happen. So if the project wasn't successful..." His voice trailed off.

Hannah's hand touched Wesley's, and he took hold of it.

"Jeffrey?" Her voice trembled. "You...?"

"I'm sorry, Hannah. Oh, god, I am so sorry. She wasn't supposed to be there. And when she called the meeting, I couldn't reach her in time." He stopped. Tears were flowing freely down his face.

Wesley looked over at Hannah. She sat perfectly still, except he could feel her hand tighten in his. She felt as if she couldn't breathe, and for a few moments she didn't. And then her breaths came in gulping gasps, as she fought the sobs that rose inside her. She would not allow herself to cry, especially not in front of the man that had killed her mother. It had been an accident, a stupid, senseless accident. And in trying to keep what he loved the most, Jeffrey Madison had lost it.

"Hannah." He was crying uncontrollably, but Wesley noticed that he still held the knife securely in his clenched hand. "I know... I know you can't forgive me," he mumbled. "Not now. But maybe... someday."

At that moment, someday seemed a long way off, and Hannah couldn't imagine where she'd be then. Or where Madison would be. She swallowed. "Who else knows Jeffrey?" Her tone was suddenly calm and controlled, almost as if it wasn't her voice.

"Kieran knew. We were together when we received Clarissa's message to come to the meeting in the lab. From my reaction, he figured it all out."

"And you tried to kill him?" She was not accusing, but questioning.

"No... no, Hannah. He came to my office that night. We argued. Somehow I pushed him; I didn't mean to. I just lost control, and Kieran fell and hit his head... and..." Madison slumped forward, elbows on knees, his chin propped on one hand. "I had to tell you, Hannah, and now I have to find some way to get off this ship."

"You'll never get off the _Enterprise_," Wesley spoke up, regretting his words even as he said them.

Madison looked at him, a coldness steeling into his expression. "It might be difficult," he said, his hand tightening around the knife, "but I will get off this ship." He stared back at Hannah. "Even if you have to go with me."

She shook her head. "I can't go with you. I won't."

"You'll go where I tell you." His voice was loud and hard.

"Don't worry, Hannah," Wesley said. "Worf's security officers won't let him take you."

Madison laughed. "Worf's security officers," he mimicked Wesley. "And where are Worf's security officers?"

Wesley didn't answer. It was a question that had been going through his mind since he'd been pulled onto the holodeck. Where was Worf? And where was Jack Crusher?

"They'll come," Wesley said with a confidence he did not feel.

"They will come," Hannah echoed.

Madison stood abruptly. "Quiet," he shouted, "both of you." He walked around the bench and began to pace back and forth in front of it. "Just sit there and let me think."

~vVv~

"I've almost got it, sir." LaForge looked back over his shoulder.

"Are you sure?" Picard stared down at him.

"As sure as I can be," he grimaced. "But I'm not sure how long it will stay open."

Picard sighed. "As long as we can get in."

"Sir." Worf stepped forward. "It would be advisable for Security to enter, and for you, Counselor Troi, and Lieutenant LaForge to remain here."

Picard looked at him. "Yes, Worf, it would be... advisable. Lieutenant LaForge and Counselor Troi will remain, but I will go with you."

"Sir," Worf protested.

"Lieutenant." Picard's eyes flashed with barely bridled anger.

Worf stepped back. "Yes, sir."

"It's ready." LaForge stood.

The security people moved over to the portal, Worf and Picard behind them.

"Captain." Worf extend a phaser to him. "It's set on stun."

Picard took it, the feel of it in his hand further clarifying the seriousness of the situation. He nodded to LaForge. "Now, Lieutenant."

LaForge activated the final connection and the doors slid open. They stepped in quickly, and Picard was momentarily dazzled by the sunlight. The doors jerked closed behind them. Across the park, Madison whirled around. The security people aimed their weapons at him. Madison instantly reached down and pulled Hannah up off the ground, held her securely next to him, the knife visible in his free hand.

"Don't fire," Picard commanded, his voice low. "Lieutenant Madison," he called across the field. "Neither of us wants the children harmed, so let them go."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he returned.

"There's no reason to add a charge of kidnapping to..." Picard hesitated.

"To what, Captain? A charge of murder?"

Picard shook his head. "I didn't say that, Lieutenant."

"No, but we're all thinking it, aren't we?"

Picard breathed deeply. "That's not for me to decide. My chief concern is Hannah and Wesley. And this ship." He paused. "Now, let them go, and we can talk." He took a step, Worf and the security officers moving forward with him.

"Don't come any closer," Madison threatened, tightening his hold on Hannah.

"Jeffrey, please," she murmured. "Let me go."

"Madison," Picard spoke, "we don't know what happened on Temple Four. Give yourself a chance to explain."

"Do you really think anyone's going to listen to me?"

"I will," Picard said sincerely.

"Why should you? Why should anyone? How could you possibly understand what she meant to me?"

"Believe me, Lieutenant, I can understand," Picard replied. "Now, please, let go of Hannah."

"No, tell your men to move back. Hannah and I are leaving here together." He moved the knife up under her chin. "I'm sorry it has to be this way, Hannah," he whispered.

It was then that Wesley heard a noise, a faint rustle above him. He looked up. And there, perched on a branch of the tree, half hidden by leaves, was Jack Crusher. Wesley glanced back at Madison and Hannah to see if either of them had heard, but he didn't think they had.

"We're going to walk out of here now," Madison announced, taking a step.

Wesley looked back up. He knew what his father was planning to do, and all he needed was some sort of diversion. Jack Crusher nodded, and Wesley nodded back. In an instant, the boy was on his feet. "Wait!" Wesley shouted.

Madison turned sharply, losing his hold on Hannah. She broke away just as Jack Crusher dropped out of the tree, knocking Madison to the ground.

The four _Enterprise_ officers raced across the field - Worf and security to surround the two men, Picard to Hannah and Wesley.

"Move away from him," Worf bellowed.

The man in the Starfleet uniform pulled himself away from Madison's flailing arms and legs. Worf fired his phaser, the stun knocking Madison unconscious. The other man knelt a few feet away from him, head bent, his breathing heavy.

Only then did Picard realize he was holding Hannah in his arms. He looked down. Her face was pressed against his chest, his hand was stroking her hair. The man across from him stood, and Picard leveled his eyes on him. "Jack?" he murmured, his breath catching in his throat.

"Jean-Luc." His former first officer smiled at him.

"I... I don't understand." Picard shifted his gaze toward Wesley.

"It is me, Jean-Luc."

Picard looked back at the man.

"It is really me," Jack Crusher repeated.

Out of the corner of his eye, Picard saw Wesley nod. Apparently, the boy believed this, but Picard did not know what to believe. Surely this was just a holodeck image, but one that had saved Hannah's life. He hugged the child closer to him, and looked Jack Crusher in the eyes. "Thank you," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "Thank you, for my daughter."

"No," Jack Crusher smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, for my son." And then he disappeared, as did the park surrounding them.

Picard looked down at Hannah. She was staring up at him, her eyes wide and questioning. He knew he should say something, but a smile was all he managed. There would be time later on to say all the things that would have to be said. He felt her arms loosen around his waist, and he let go of her just as the holodeck doors slid open. LaForge and Troi, seeing that everything was under control, hurried inside.

"Captain?" Troi looked at him.

"Counselor, please take Hannah and Wesley to Sickbay. Lieutenant Worf, see that Madison is taken there as well."

Worf nodded to the two security officers, and they lifted Madison up from the ground and carried him off the holodeck. Worf followed them.

Troi put her hand on Hannah's shoulder and guided her towards the door. Wesley walked with them, but he stopped and looked back at Picard when he reached the portal.

"Go along with them, Wesley," Picard instructed.

Wesley turned slowly and left.

"Captain," LaForge spoke. "I still don't know what caused the problem with the holodeck."

Picard looked around at the black grid walls. "Perhaps we're not supposed to know," he murmured, his back to LaForge.

"What was that, sir?"

Picard turned towards him. "Nothing, Lieutenant," he answered. "Nothing."

~vVv~


	18. Chapter 18

From his ready room, Picard informed Starfleet and Temple IV of the current situation. Arrangements were made to transfer Madison to the proper authorities on Dreesunus.

Afterwards, the captain walked slowly down to Sickbay. For some reason, he was thinking of his mother, of Maman, and how he wished she were still alive. What was it she'd told him? That she would always be with him. And at times, he felt her near. But not now. Despite his thinking of her, and wishing she were here, he did not feel her presence at all. Perhaps there were some things one had to do alone.

Sickbay was unusually quiet when Picard walked in, even though it was the middle of the day. He stopped at Beverly Crusher's office door. "Doctor?"

She looked up from her desk computer screen. "Captain."

"How are all our patients?" he asked.

"Doing just fine," Crusher answered. She fixed him with a hard stare. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you?"

"My son was held captive on the holodeck for almost an hour, and you neglected to inform me."

Picard blinked. "Beverly, I'm sorry. I..." With everything going on, he simply hadn't thought about it.

Crusher sighed. "I'll let you off easy this time, Jean-Luc, seeing that Deanna shares the blame with you. She had the opportunity earlier to tell me about the situation, but she didn't. She said she didn't want to worry me." The doctor exhaled a deep breath. "I'm just thankful everything worked out all right."

"Did Wesley tell you..."

She shook her head. "I haven't gotten the details yet. I've been too busy with patients. Wesley promised to tell me all about it later this evening. In the meanwhile, I sent him back to his quarters to rest."

Picard nodded.

"As for the rest of them: Madison regained consciousness, and I had him transferred to the brig. Will's complaining, but I'm keeping him here. At least until tomorrow. And Hannah-"

"She's all right?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

Crusher smiled at him. "I'm sure, Jean-Luc. She's in the next room with Deanna. She's fairly upset, but I think she'll be fine."

Picard's gaze focused on the floor.

"How about you?" Crusher asked softly.

He looked up at her. "Me?"

"Are you all right?"

He forced a smile. "I'm just fine, Doctor. Would you please tell Counselor Troi I'd like to see her in the observation lounge when she's available?"

"Of course."

The captain turned and left. Crusher watched him go, and then went back to her work.

~vVv~

Picard waited in the observation lounge, staring out at the stars, for almost half an hour before he heard the door slide open behind him. He'd long ago found that when he was quiet and thoughtful, he could sense Deanna Troi's presence. Like now, it was usually a very calming influence.

"Counselor."

"You wanted to see me, Captain?" Troi's voice was soft.

"Yes," he answered, without turning away from the window. "I wanted to ask about Hannah."

"She's holding a lot of her feelings inside right now. But she is upset about Jeffrey and her mother."

"And me?" Picard asked quietly. "Did she tell you?"

"Yes." Troi walked over and stood behind him. "She is a bit confused, but I sensed a certain amount of joy."

"Joy?"

"Pain and joy can co-exist."

Picard sighed.

"She is missing her mother very much," Troi continued. "Finding you has caused her to deal with feelings and emotions that she's repressed. But she's strong, Captain. She as an...inner strength that is very rare for a girl her age." The counselor reached out and hesitantly placed a hand on Picard's shoulder. "I think, perhaps, she gets that from you."

Picard exhaled slowly. He glanced over at Troi. "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about her."

Troi drew her hand away and leaned her back against the viewport. She studied Picard's face, the tight lines around his eyes and mouth, the creases on his forehead. "How do you feel right now? Not about Hannah, but in general."

Picard crossed his arms over his chest. He hesitated for a long moment. "Frightened," he answered quietly.

"Of what?" she prodded gently.

"Responsibility." He ran a hand over his head. "Doesn't make sense, does it? I can take on the responsibility for over a thousand lives on board this ship. But the idea of being responsible for that child," he swallowed, "my child, frightens me."

"It's a totally new feeling. It's all right for it to frighten you."

"What do I do about this fear?"

"Confront it," Troi said simply.

Picard's eyes searched her face.

"She's still in Sickbay," she informed him.

He nodded.

"Would you like me to go with you?"

"No. But thank you." Picard inhaled deeply. "I think I should talk to her on my own. After all, she is my daughter."

~vVv~


	19. Chapter 19

Picard walked slowly into the _Enterprise's_ sickbay. It was empty except for the single figure on the opposite end. He stopped and took a deep breath. God, she looked so small… solitary, helpless. Much the same way he felt. As if they were the only two people alive in the universe, and time was standing still; and the only thing passing was the silent, invisible tension between them. That, and the fear.

Nothing had prepared him for this moment. There was no training at the Academy on how to be a father. And Picard was fast realizing it was not an innate ability. At least, not for him.

He walked the length of the sickbay. Hannah remained where she was, seated on a low bench next to the large observation windows. He stopped behind her and stood there in silence for several moments. He felt vulnerable in this child's presence. And yet, surprisingly, it was not a vulnerability he was ashamed of. Knights in shining armor aside, he did not have to be "the Captain of the _Enterprise_" with her. He simply had to be himself. And despite his fear, he felt a calmness rising inside him, a mysterious assurance that things would be all right.

"Hannah," he spoke her name softly, not wanting to startle her, though he knew she was aware of him.

She looked up and he found himself staring down into blue eyes, bright with gathering tears. She quickly looked away. He sat down next to her, close to her, but not touching. And still he could feel her tense.

"Hannah," he said her name again, curiously drawing strength from the sound of it, and the feel of it on his lips: an affirmation of who she was, and who she was to him. "I didn't know until yesterday. I didn't even suspect." She turned her face to him. "As you suspected." He smiled weakly. "Even with your questions, I never even thought of the possibility." He looked down at his hands, knotted together on his knees. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

There was a silence. He didn't look up.

"She didn't tell you," Hannah said after a few moments.

"No," he answered, even though it was not a question.

"She never told me either."

Picard raised his head. Hannah was staring out the window.

"I'm sure she had her reasons," he said, knowing that years ago his career had been one of them.

"I guess," Hannah mumbled. She did not know what to say. Even though she had imagined this moment for over half her life, it was not what she expected. She'd always dreamed that they would know each other immediately, that they would be instantly comfortable with each other. But she was nervous and scared, and relieved all at the same time. Nervous because she didn't know what to say; scared because finding him would probably change her future; and relieved because he was here, sitting patiently beside her, strong and authoritative and dependable, as all starship captains should be. And all fathers.

"When I was little, I would ask Mom about you. She said you were a very good, brave man who for very important reasons couldn't be with us. Then she'd say that her work was very important, too, and that we had to live where we lived, and that's just the way things were. I always wondered what your name was, but she would never tell me."

Hannah looked over at Picard, and she suddenly realized how much harder this must be for him than it was for her. Sure, he was older, and mature, but at least she'd always known that somewhere she had a father. Discovering he had a daughter must have been a total shock for him, and even she could perceive, in subtle ways, how the strain had taken its toll. He looked older and more tired.

"Guinan told me," he said quietly. "I think she was the only person your mother ever told."

"She loved Guinan," Hannah murmured.

She loved me once, Picard remembered silently.

They stared at each other for a few moments.

"Hannah, I know this is a lot for you to deal with. Your mother, Jeffery… me." He said the last word almost apologetically.

Hannah swallowed. "What will happen to Jeffery?"

"I don't know for sure. But he will never, ever hurt you again. I can promise you that." He stared at her with a strong sense of fatherly protection.

She was silent for a moment. "I don't hate him. I know I probably should, but I don't. I just feel sorry for him."

Picard gazed at her. Troi was right. She was very strong for a girl her age. Perhaps even stronger than her father, for deep down, Picard was battling with his hatred for Jeffery Madison.

He took a deep breath and tentatively reached out and touched her hand. "It's all right not to hate him, Hannah."

She started to pull away, but stopped and allowed him to hold her hand. She looked up into his eyes. "What should I call you?"

He hadn't thought about that, and did not know what he thought at the moment.

"What would you like to call me?" he asked by way of an answer.

Hannah hesitated. "I'm not sure."

"Well, why don't you think about it, and when you've decided, let me know, all right?"

The girl nodded. "All right."

"Captain. Hannah."

They both looked. Deanna Troi stood in the doorway. "I'm sorry to interrupt. But Doctor Crusher and I thought Hannah could use some rest."

"Yes, of course." Picard smiled at the girl. "I'll see you later. For dinner, perhaps?"

"Yes, I'd like that," she answered quietly.

"So would I."

Troi walked over and put her arm around Hannah. Picard watched as they left the room, and then he turned and stared out the window. It's so easy for her, he thought. So easy for Deanna Troi to reach out and touch people. And he could barely hold his own child's hand.

~vVv~

"Sir." Riker struggled up to a sitting position as Picard walked over to the side of his bed.

"At ease, Number One." He reached out and plumped the pillow behind his first officer's back. Riker settled himself against it.

"Thank you, sir."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm just fine. What are my chances of getting out of here?"

Picard pulled over a chair and sat down. "Slim to none," he answered. He rolled his eyes in the direction of Crusher's office. "You know how she is. I almost never got out of here last week."

Riker nodded. Beverly Crusher was thorough to a fault.

"Actually, she told me she was going to keep you here until tomorrow. So you might as well take it easy."

"I'll try. But I probably won't enjoy it."

Picard had looked away and was staring into the middle of the room, his eyes focused on nothing.

"Sir," Riker said quietly, seeing the worry on his captain's face. "Can I help you?"

Picard looked back and sighed. "I'm sorry, Will. I came to see how you were feeling, and…"

"And to talk," Riker finished his thought.

Picard breathed deeply. "Hannah Trent is my daughter."

"Your daughter?"

"Clarissa and I were more than just old friends. Much more." He laughed silently, nervously. "Apparently, when she left the _Stargazer_, she was pregnant with our child. With Hannah."

"Did Hannah tell you?"

"No. Clarissa had never told her."

"Then how…"

"Guinan," Picard shook his head. "The woman knows everything."

Riker nodded in agreement. "I suppose congratulations are in order."

"Thank you." Picard hesitated. "Will, I'm remembering one of the first conversations you and I had. I asked you to help me with the children on board this ship. We have two more days until we reach Dreesunus, and this time, I'd like to ask you to help me with my daughter. If only to be an understanding first officer in the wake of my possible distraction. And confusion," he added.

Riker smiled encouragingly. "I'm sure everything will be just fine, sir."

Picard sighed, but returned his first officer's smile. "I'm glad one of us is. To tell you the truth, Will, I'm not sure of anything right now."

~vVv~

"I'm sorry."

He said the words so quietly that at first she didn't hear. Her head remained bent over the computer console on her desk, golden red strands of hair half obscuring her face.

This time, he said them louder, adding her name to get her attention. "Beverly, I'm sorry."

And she looked up and smiled, waved a hand toward the empty chair across from her. "For what?" she questioned as he sank into the proffered seat.

"For earlier." He lowered his eyes to the tops of his knees. "I was rather abrupt in my haste to see Deanna… and check on Hannah."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Jean-Luc. I'd already had the opportunity to see to my son. You had every right to be in a hurry to see to your daughter."

He looked up. "Then you know…"

She nodded. "Deanna told me. I hope that's all right. I was able to run some tests. She is yours, Jean-Luc."

He sighed. "I wanted to be the one to tell you, but there wasn't time. I just found out late last night."

"Guinan."

He shook his head. "She's always known, but she promised Clarissa not to tell me."

"But she was your daughter as much as she was Clarissa's."

"True. But she had her reasons, and Guinan honored her request. I don't bear Guinan any ill will for the decision she made. It was most likely the best decision to make."

Crusher tilted her head. "Why do you say that?"

"Oh, Beverly…" Picard stood and paced to the doorway, leaned his arm against the frame, stared out into the main sickbay. "What sort of father would I have been to a young child? All I've ever known are starships and away missions. I wouldn't have been a proper parent, nor would I have been a suitable husband to Clarissa. She knew that… That's why she chose not to tell me."

Crusher pushed herself to her feet and went over to him, stood close behind him. "I don't think you're giving Clarissa enough credit."

He cut his eyes back at her. "What do you mean?"

"Jean-Luc, she knew the man that she fell in love with. She knew who you were… What made you… Jean-Luc Picard. You are starships, and away missions, and first contacts… and all the space in between. She knew where you belonged, and, I think, she didn't want to hold you back." She paused for a few moments, and then spoke again, her voice very low. "But it was a selfish decision, one that she had no right to make herself."

He started to object.

"No, hear me out. I understand why she did it. I'm not trying to judge her. I can't. I've never been in her situation. Jack and I were already married. Wesley was planned. And even though we were separated for months at a time, I never felt like I was keeping Jack from the life he wanted. He found a way to have it all because that's what he wanted. The stars and me and Wesley." Gently, she placed a hand on Picard's shoulder. "Don't forget. I knew you back then. And I knew, just like Clarissa probably did, that everything you ever wanted was on the _Stargazer_. There wasn't room for anything else." She drew in a deep breath. "So I know why she didn't tell you. But still, she should have. You would have been a wonderful father. Just like Jack, you would have found a way to have it all. Even if it was something you never knew you wanted."

He lowered his eyes, licked nervously at his lips, then gazed back up at her. "Is it too late?"

"What?"

"To try and have it all?"

Crusher knew that he was asking about more than just Hannah. She could see other unspoken questions in his eyes, but she focused on the fledgling relationship that he had with the daughter he'd just met. "You can still be a wonderful father, Jean-Luc."

There would be time, later, to think about having it all.

~vVv~

Father and daughter ate dinner together that evening, alone in Picard's quarters. The events of the morning seemed so far away, and yet at the same time so very near. Their conversation, though not as strained as there one in Sickbay, was still uneasy.

Hannah told him about the places where she and Clarissa had lived in the past fifteen years. And there had been a lot of them, all small and out of the way.

"I've never even been to Earth."

"Never?"

"No, sir."

"Well, we'll have to go someday, won't we?"

"I suppose."

Picard reached out and placed his teacup on the table. 'Hannah, I've been thinking about… us. You know, you're welcome to stay here on the Enterprise if you like."

There it was, the future she was unsure of. The one that both thrilled and scared her. The one she'd thought about for a long time that afternoon as she lay staring at the ceiling of her cabin. The one she could not choose despite her desire to do so.

"I appreciate that, sir, but…"

Picard winced. "Sir" was quickly becoming the name she'd chosen for him. Like one of the crew.

"Would you like some time to think about it?"

"No, sir," she answered quickly. "I mean… my grandparents are expecting me."

Picard looked down at the table. "Of course," he said softly, not sure whether he was relieved or saddened by her answer.

"I'm glad I got to meet you." She pushed her chair back.

Picard stared at the girl. Could it be that easy for her – to find him and dismiss him all in one day? Perhaps it could. She stood as if to leave.

"I enjoyed dinner very much."

Picard rose. "So did I."

Neither of them moved. Hannah looked nervously at the floor. She felt her chin beginning to quiver.

"If you'll excuse me, sir. I'm still a little bit tired."

"I'll walk you back to your cabin," he offered.

"No. But thank you." She was out the door before he had a chance to say another word.

~vVv~

In her cabin, Hannah collapsed on her bed, crying convulsively. He had asked her to stay, whether he really wanted her to or not, he had asked. But surely he didn't mean it. He'd just asked because he felt he had to.

She'd known he would. He was just that kind of man. Only earlier that afternoon she'd remembered something.

Once, when she was about five, in the middle of one of her mother's stories, she'd asked where the captain's children were. And her mom had told her that starship captain's didn't have children.

And Hannah had made her decision based upon that answer. Maybe her life had been changed forever. But she would not change his, too.

~vVv~

"Finally."

"Finally, what?" Hannah stood in the doorway, Wesley in the corridor. It was early the next morning.

"I rang about six times. I hope I didn't wake you up."

"No. You didn't," Hannah answered. "I've been awake for a long time."

"I guess you've got a lot to think about."

"Yeah."

"Oh," Wesley suddenly remembered. "I was sent to get you. He wants you to come to the bridge."

There was no need to identify who "he" was.

"To the bridge?" Hannah wasn't quite sure she'd heard right.

"Hey," Wesley smiled, "Captain's orders."

~vVv~

Wesley stepped off the turbolift first. Hannah stayed close behind him. She looked around. They were standing on the upper level of the bridge. Behind her, crew members were busy at their stations.

"Hannah."

She turned quickly in the direction of his voice.

He was standing in the middle of the lower deck, Commander Riker and Counselor Troi were seated on either side of him.

"Welcome to the bridge." He nodded in Wesley's direction. "Thank you, Ensign."

Wesley walked down and relieved the officer at the helm. Picard took a few steps toward his ready room. "Hannah, can we talk?"

"Yes, sir."

"You have the bridge, Number One."

"Aye, sir," he replied, more than glad to have it, grateful that Crusher had released him from Sickbay and given him permission to report for duty.

The door to the captain's ready room slid open, and Hannah followed Picard inside. Behind them, Riker and Troi smiled at each other.

"Hannah, please have a seat," Picard indicated the chair in front of his desk as he took a seat in his own.

She sat down.

"I wanted you to see where I spent most of my time."

She looked around the room, and her eyes fell upon the model of the _Stargazer_.

"The ship you and Mom were on."

"That's right. The _Stargazer_."

Hannah continued to stare at it. "She loved that ship," she murmured. "I don't see how she ever stood living on all those planets we lived on. I guess it was different for me. Except for a shuttle here and there, they were all I ever knew."

"The planet where your grandparents live, Dreesunus, is a very nice place."

Hannah looked back at him. "Yes, I know. I've been there."

Picard leaned forward, his hands folded on his desk. "Hannah, is there anything I can do for you? Anything you want to ask me?"

"No." She stood and walked over to the model of the _Stargazer_. Carefully, she reached out and touched it.

"I loved that ship, too," Picard said, his voice low. She looked back at him. "And I did love your mother. Very much."

"I know. Is it all right if I go now?"

"Of course."

Hannah went to the door. "Sir." She couldn't bring herself to look at him; instead her eyes were focused on the floor. "She loved you, too. In all those stories, I always knew she loved the captain."

"Thank you, Hannah."

She looked up. "For what?"

"For telling me that. It means a lot."

"You're welcome."

~vVv~


	20. Chapter 20

"She doesn't want to stay." He stared across the table at his breakfast companion as she spooned orange marmalade onto a croissant.

"You've asked her?"

He nodded. "She thinks it would be better to be with her grandparents."

Crusher smiled softly at him. "She knows them, Jean-Luc."

"I suppose she's right."

She reached across the table and touched her hand to his. "It doesn't have to be a permanent solution. It's not like we can't come back to Dreesunus. A few months from now… Next year… When she's had time to heal… Maybe then…"

He took a deep breath, wrapped his fingers around hers. "You're right. It's not like I'll never see her again. It's just that…"

She laced her fingers through his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "She's not going to forget you, Jean-Luc. You're her father."

~vVv~

The next two days passed quickly, and their time together was over all too soon. They'd shared a few more meals, a few more conversations, and an occasional memory of Clarissa. But despite their growing feelings for each other, neither allowed themselves to get too close.

When the morning of Hannah's departure arrived, Wesley walked her to the transporter room where Picard was waiting.

"Why don't you stay onboard?" Wesley asked.

"I can't," she replied. "My grandparents need me."

"What do you need, Hannah?"

She stopped in the middle of the corridor and looked at him. "I need to be with family. Old family," she added.

Wesley sighed. "I understand. It's just that… Hey, I'm gonna miss you."

Hannah smiled. "I'll miss you, too. And… I'll miss him."

Wesley did not need to ask whom she was talking about. He knew. "He's really great, once you get to know him."

"I know," she nodded. "I feel like I'm already getting to know him a little."

"Then why stop now? If you stay onboard, you can…" Wesley stopped himself.

"I've thought about that, Wes. But this is the decision I've made. I know who he is, and where he is, and maybe that's enough for right now. I'll see him again. And I'll see you again, too. Don't forget, you promised to write."

"I will."

They walked on in silence until they reached the transporter room. Before they stepped close enough to activate the doors, they stopped and stared at each other. Then Wesley leaned forward and embraced her.

"Goodbye, Hannah." He pulled away.

"Goodbye, Wesley," she smiled. "And thanks."

"For what?"

"For being a friend when I really needed one."

"You're welcome."

Hannah glanced at the transporter room doors.

"He's waiting for you in there," Wesley said softly.

"I know." She took a deep breath, felt Wesley squeeze her arm. And then he was gone. She stepped forward. The doors slid open, and Hannah looked inside. He was waiting for her, standing stiff and straight below the control panel.

"I hope I'm not late," she said as she walked towards him.

"No, not at all," he answered, shaking his head. "You're right on time."

"That's good." She glanced at the transporter pad. "Jeffrey's already gone?"

"Yes. He was beamed down about an hour ago." She felt his hands lightly touch her shoulders. She looked back at him. "Hannah. You never have to see him again. That is, unless you want to."

She nodded. "I know." She did not say whether she would ever want to or not. She did not know herself. Maybe someday, when she was older… She found herself staring at Picard, as if a portion of her brain was committing his face to memory. It was a noble face – a knightly face. She smiled.

"What?" he questioned.

"Nothing," she murmured, acutely aware of his hand still on her shoulders. She shrugged slightly, and he removed them.

"I can still come with you," he offered. He had been planning to beam down to the planet with her, but she did not want him to.

"No," she returned, "I know it sounds silly, but when I think of you, I want to remember you being here, on the Enterprise."

Picard smiled. "It doesn't sound silly."

"It's just that," she stared up at him, "this is where you belong."

"You could belong here, too."

Hannah looked around the room. "No, not yet. Maybe someday."

"I wish we'd… had more time."

Her eyes searched his face. "Do you mean that? Really?"

She was like a drowning child, looking for a mainstay, a firm shore on which to anchor herself. Picard could feel that fragile, tenuous bond that had grown between them just in the past few days. But he knew he could not be her rock. Not now. He could not offer her all that she needed. No matter how much he wanted to, or how much he tried. The best place for Hannah was on Dreesunus.

"Yes, Hannah," he answered. "I really mean that."

She reached out and hugged him, and Picard realized he had not held her in his arms since that day on the holodeck. He'd forgotten that she felt even smaller than she looked. He tightened his arms around her. He wanted to remember always what she felt like.

Long moments passed, and then Hannah pulled away.

"I have something for you," Picard said softly, reaching over to the control panel and picking something up. He offered it to her. It was a gold locket and chain. Hannah took it, held it in her hand.

"It's very old," she breathed.

"Yes, it is. It was my mother's, and her mother's before that. In fact, I'm not sure exactly how old it is."

Hannah carefully opened it, and looked inside. "There's a picture in here."

"The man's my father."

She looked closely at it. "Who are the little boy and the baby?"

"The boy is my brother, Robert." Picard smiled, the color rising slightly in his cheeks. "And the baby is me."

Hannah grinned. "Oh, yeah. It looks like you." She looked up at his head, and he laughed.

"Yes, it does," he agreed, self-consciously running a hand over his scalp. "Still."

She started to return it to him, but he pushed it back into her hand.

"My mother wore that locket every day of her life. At least, every day I can remember. I think she'd like it very much if you wore it now. I know I would."

"But-"

"No arguments. Here." He took it from her and placed it gently around her neck. It hung down to the middle of her chest. She touched it lightly.

"Thank you," she whispered, blinking her eyes. Then she turned and stepped onto the transporter pad. She looked back at him as he moved behind the control panel. "I'll never forget you."

He inhaled deeply, fighting back tears. "And I shall always remember you," he promised. "And we'll see each other again. Soon." He double checked the coordinates. "Goodbye, Hannah." He activated the transporter, and just as the effect caught hold of her, she called out to him.

"Goodbye, Papa." And then she was gone.

Picard felt a lump form in his throat when he realized what she'd called him. "Au revoir, mon fille," he murmured. "Je t'aime."

He stood quietly for several moments, staring at the space where she'd been. Reaching up, he wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. Then he breathed deeply and straightened his shoulders. He collected his thoughts, reminding himself that there were other obligations that demanded his attention.

His air of authority restored, Jean-Luc Picard strode out the transporter room door. He was a different man than he had been two weeks ago. A man who had lost much, but gained more.

~vVv~


	21. Chapter 21

"Come."

Picard looked up from his computer screen to see Wesley Crusher step through his ready room door. The young man walked over and stopped in front of his desk.

"Wesley."

"I hope I'm not interrupting, sir."

"No, not at all. What can I do for you?"

Wesley took a deep breath. "I have something I want to give you." He drew his hand from behind his back and extended it.

Picard reached out and took a data rod from him. He looked at the boy inquiringly.

"It's the parameters for my holodeck program."

Picard turned the rod over in his hand and stared at it momentarily. "Wesley, please, have a seat."

The teenager sank into the opposite chair. "I thought you might like to have it. The program can be adapted so you can…" Wesley's voice trailed off and he looked away.

"Bring back anyone," Picard finished his sentence.

"Yes, sir."

Picard held up the rod. "I suppose you have a copy of this?"

"No," Wesley answered. He swallowed. "I went back to the holodeck. It won't work for me."

"You mean…"

Wesley looked over at Picard, his eyes bright. "He's not there, sir. The park is, but he's gone."

Picard exhaled deeply, surprised to find that he'd been holding his breath. "Would you like to talk about him?"

Wesley shook his head. "It was just a holodeck image."

"Yes. But one who looked and acted a great deal like your father."

Wesley shrugged. He felt very uncomfortable. And yet, this was what he'd wanted. Talking to the captain about Jack Crusher was one of the main reasons for coming.

"I wanted to know what he was like. And to see how it would feel to actually have a father."

"And…" Picard prompted.

Wesley smiled despite himself. "It was…" he hesitated, realizing he couldn't choose just one word to describe how he'd felt. Finally, he settled for, "Incredible."

"Incredible," Picard echoed. He smiled and leaned back in his desk chair. "You know, I think I would have enjoyed spending a little time with him myself."

Wesley grinned. He'd never seen the captain so… laid back was the only description he could think of.

"Yes," Picard stared up at the ceiling, "it would have been wonderful to have visited with your father - even if it was just a holodeck image.

Wesley envisioned Jack Crusher and Jean-Luc Picard running around Golden Gate Park playing baseball. No…

"Cricket," he murmured.

"What was that?"

Only then did Wesley realize he'd spoken out loud. Captain Picard was staring at him.

"Sorry, sir, I was just thinking aloud. Something he told me about you."

"Which was?"

"That you were a very good cricket player."

A broad smile broke over the captain's face. "He's right you know. I am a very…" His smile abruptly faded.

"Are you all right?" Wesley leaned toward him.

"How did he know?"

"Know what?" Wesley wasn't quite following the captain's train of thought.

"How did he know I was a damn good cricket player?"

"I don't know, sir. I suppose…" Wesley stopped midsentence, suddenly hit by the same realization.

The two of them stared at each other for several moments.

And then Wesley took a deep breath. "There's no way the holodeck image I programmed could have known that. The Jack Crusher I created could have only known the things I programmed him to know." He hesitated. "And I never knew you were a cricket player until he told me."

A long silence stretched between them until, finally, Wesley spoke again. "Sir, was that really my father?"

Picard tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow the lump in his throat. "I don't know, Wes," he answered, standing and turning towards the viewport. "Perhaps neither of us ever will."

Wesley rose from his chair and walked over to stand next to him. Together they stared out at the blackness, streaked with starlight as the Enterprise warped through space. Picard's thoughts drifted from Jack Crusher to Hannah. And yet, there was still a connection there, one he had not been aware of until that moment.

"You know, Wesley," he said, strength gathering behind his voice, "we have something in common, you and I."

"We do, sir?" Wesley questioned. "I mean, what is that, sir?"

"For a long time, you have been a child without a father, and now I…" Hannah's face flashed in his mind. He swallowed. "Now I am a father without a child." Picard turned and looked at Wesley, for the first time really seeing how much he resembled his dear old friend Jack. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I think so," Wesley answered, turning to leave. He walked over and stopped at the door, looked back. "Sir, I would like it if you and I could have more talks like this."

"I would like that also," Picard agreed. "In fact, I would like that very much indeed."

Wesley smiled and left. Picard turned back to the viewport, pressed his palms against it. "I'm sorry I missed you, Jack," he whispered into the darkness. "Maybe next time."

~vVv~


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate all your thoughtful words.**

Days went by, then weeks. Time, fluid and constant, went forward as it was meant to. And things changed. His relationship with Beverly Crusher deepened and grew closer. He finally admitted to himself just how much he'd missed her during her year at Starfleet Medical – admitted that he wasn't complete without her. And he recognized that gaping hole within him that only she could fill.

Especially now, when the absence of Hannah had created another equally large hole.

He stared across the table at Crusher, the half-eaten dinner plates still scattered between them.

"I've always felt that you would make a good father, Jean-Luc," she said softly.

He grimaced and ran a hand across his forehead. "That's what's troubling me, Beverly. Actually being someone's father. Being someone's friend, someone's captain. That…I know how to do. But a father… and one who's millions of miles away at that."

"Sort of like this past year, and me being away from Wesley."

"No," he shook his head. "It's different. You have always known Wesley. Hannah and I, despite those few days together, are strangers to each other."

"You've written to her."

"A couple of times. I ask all the obligatory questions: How is she? How are her grandparents? How is school?"

"And she writes you back."

"Oh, yes. Promptly. And she answers all the questions in an orderly fashion. Like two computers exchanging data."

Crusher nodded. "Your conversations with other people tend to be that way sometimes."

Picard looked sharply at her, but his gaze softened when he realized she was speaking the truth. "I know," he agreed with a sigh.

"You have always been hesitant to reveal personal aspects of your life," she continued. "The few of us who know the real Jean-Luc Picard have spent years studying the subject." She smiled warmly at him. "And even then you remain somewhat of a mystery."

"All good starship captains should," he smiled shyly.

"Perhaps. But not to their daughters."

"What are you suggesting?" Picard inquired carefully, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Instead of asking her so many questions, try telling her about yourself."

"Oh, come now," he laughed, "what would a fifteen-year-old child want to know about an old starship captain?"

"Maybe nothing about 'an old starship captain.' Maybe a lot about her father."

He sighed, raised an eyebrow, studied her carefully. "You think so?" he asked hesitantly.

"Look at this way – she's a captive audience."

"She is that, isn't she? Unless she chooses not to read what I write."

"Oh, I think she will." Crusher paused. "I know I would."

Picard stared at her for several moments. "It's good to have you back, Beverly," he said finally, reaching over and taking her hand in his. "I've...missed you."

~vVv~

In the middle of a dark night, Beverly Crusher held Jean-Luc Picard and listened as he told her about Clarissa Trent. When he began to cry, she pulled his trembling body closer to hers and softly kissed the tears from his eyes.

"I should have told you about her a long time ago," he murmured.

"It's all right that you didn't." She gently stroked the side of his face.

"It helps to tell you. It doesn't hurt quite as much."

If it didn't hurt quite as much now, she could only imagine how it must have hurt before, when he'd been alone with his pain. But she knew what he meant.

"I know," she agreed. "That's how I feel when we talk about Jack."

Picard sighed and cupped her cheek in his hand for several moments. Then he disentangled himself from her embrace and slid out from under the covers. He gazed fondly at the holoimage of Hannah he kept on his bedside table, and then he stood and walked over to the viewport.

"She's out there," he said, his voice still husky with emotion.

He felt her come and stand beside him, her hand resting warm upon his back.

"Clarissa?"

"Yes," he sighed. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but I like to think that all the people I've ever loved and lost are out there, watching over me, guiding me."

"It doesn't sound ridiculous," she responded. "Jack's out there."

He turned and looked at her. In the room's half-light, he could see her gentle smile.

"I think he and Clarissa will like each other," he mused.

She reached up with her fingers and lightly traced the line of his jaw. "Who knows?" she whispered. "They may even learn to love each other – like I love you."

She leaned into him, their lips touched, and Picard felt the closeness, the easiness between them. _Twice in a lifetime_, he thought, as their kiss deepened. Only now, it was even better. With Beverly Crusher, he did not feel clumsy at all.

~vVv~

Jean-Luc Picard dreamed, and this time there were no shadows.

~The End~


End file.
